initial commit of ebook 1893HEADmain

1 files changed, 6369 insertions, 0 deletions

diff --git a/1893.txt b/1893.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..cdfacac
--- /dev/null
+++ b/1893.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,6369 @@
+The Project Gutenberg Etext Song and Legend From the Middle Ages
+by William D. McClintock and Porter Lander McClintock
+
+
+Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check
+the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!!
+
+Please take a look at the important information in this header.
+We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an
+electronic path open for the next readers.  Do not remove this.
+
+
+**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts**
+
+**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971**
+
+*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations*
+
+Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and
+further information is included below.  We need your donations.
+
+
+Song and Legend From the Middle Ages
+
+by William D. McClintock and Porter Lander McClintock
+
+September, 1999  [Etext #1893]
+[Date last updated: June 9, 2006]
+
+
+The Project Gutenberg Etext Song and Legend From the Middle Ages
+******This file should be named 1893.txt or 1893.zip******
+
+
+Etext scanned by Dianne Bean of Phoenix, Arizona
+
+Project Gutenberg Etexts are usually created from multiple editions,
+all of which are in the Public Domain in the United States, unless a
+copyright notice is included.  Therefore, we usually do NOT keep any
+of these books in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+We are now trying to release all our books one month in advance
+of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing.
+
+Please note:  neither this list nor its contents are final till
+midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement.
+The official release date of all Project Gutenberg Etexts is at
+Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month.  A
+preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment
+and editing by those who wish to do so.  To be sure you have an
+up to date first edition [xxxxx10x.xxx] please check file sizes
+in the first week of the next month.  Since our ftp program has
+a bug in it that scrambles the date [tried to fix and failed] a
+look at the file size will have to do, but we will try to see a
+new copy has at least one byte more or less.
+
+
+Information about Project Gutenberg (one page)
+
+We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work.  The
+time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours
+to get any etext selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright
+searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc.  This
+projected audience is one hundred million readers.  If our value
+per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2
+million dollars per hour this year as we release thirty-six text
+files per month, or 432 more Etexts in 1999 for a total of 2000+
+If these reach just 10% of the computerized population, then the
+total should reach over 200 billion Etexts given away this year.
+
+The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away One Trillion Etext
+Files by December 31, 2001.  [10,000 x 100,000,000 = 1 Trillion]
+This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers,
+which is only ~5% of the present number of computer users.
+
+At our revised rates of production, we will reach only one-third
+of that goal by the end of 2001, or about 3,333 Etexts unless we
+manage to get some real funding; currently our funding is mostly
+from Michael Hart's salary at Carnegie-Mellon University, and an
+assortment of sporadic gifts; this salary is only good for a few
+more years, so we are looking for something to replace it, as we
+don't want Project Gutenberg to be so dependent on one person.
+
+We need your donations more than ever!
+
+
+All donations should be made to "Project Gutenberg/CMU": and are
+tax deductible to the extent allowable by law.  (CMU = Carnegie-
+Mellon University).
+
+For these and other matters, please mail to:
+
+Project Gutenberg
+P. O. Box  2782
+Champaign, IL 61825
+
+When all other email fails. . .try our Executive Director:
+Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com>
+hart@pobox.com forwards to hart@prairienet.org and archive.org
+if your mail bounces from archive.org, I will still see it, if
+it bounces from prairienet.org, better resend later on. . . .
+
+We would prefer to send you this information by email.
+
+******
+
+To access Project Gutenberg etexts, use any Web browser
+to view http://promo.net/pg.  This site lists Etexts by
+author and by title, and includes information about how
+to get involved with Project Gutenberg.  You could also
+download our past Newsletters, or subscribe here.  This
+is one of our major sites, please email hart@pobox.com,
+for a more complete list of our various sites.
+
+To go directly to the etext collections, use FTP or any
+Web browser to visit a Project Gutenberg mirror (mirror
+sites are available on 7 continents; mirrors are listed
+at http://promo.net/pg).
+
+Mac users, do NOT point and click, typing works better.
+
+Example FTP session:
+
+ftp sunsite.unc.edu
+login: anonymous
+password: your@login
+cd pub/docs/books/gutenberg
+cd etext90 through etext99
+dir [to see files]
+get or mget [to get files. . .set bin for zip files]
+GET GUTINDEX.??  [to get a year's listing of books, e.g., GUTINDEX.99]
+GET GUTINDEX.ALL [to get a listing of ALL books]
+
+***
+
+**Information prepared by the Project Gutenberg legal advisor**
+
+(Three Pages)
+
+
+***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS**START***
+Why is this "Small Print!" statement here?  You know: lawyers.
+They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with
+your copy of this etext, even if you got it for free from
+someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our
+fault.  So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement
+disclaims most of our liability to you.  It also tells you how
+you can distribute copies of this etext if you want to.
+
+*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS ETEXT
+By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm
+etext, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept
+this "Small Print!" statement.  If you do not, you can receive
+a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this etext by
+sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person
+you got it from.  If you received this etext on a physical
+medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request.
+
+ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM ETEXTS
+This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-
+tm etexts, is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor
+Michael S. Hart through the Project Gutenberg Association at
+Carnegie-Mellon University (the "Project").  Among other
+things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright
+on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and
+distribute it in the United States without permission and
+without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules, set forth
+below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this etext
+under the Project's "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark.
+
+To create these etexts, the Project expends considerable
+efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain
+works.  Despite these efforts, the Project's etexts and any
+medium they may be on may contain "Defects".  Among other
+things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
+intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged
+disk or other etext medium, a computer virus, or computer
+codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment.
+
+LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES
+But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below,
+[1] the Project (and any other party you may receive this
+etext from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext) disclaims all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including
+legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR
+UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT,
+INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE
+OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE
+POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES.
+
+If you discover a Defect in this etext within 90 days of
+receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any)
+you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that
+time to the person you received it from.  If you received it
+on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and
+such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement
+copy.  If you received it electronically, such person may
+choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to
+receive it electronically.
+
+THIS ETEXT IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS".  NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS
+TO THE ETEXT OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT
+LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A
+PARTICULAR PURPOSE.
+
+Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or
+the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the
+above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you
+may have other legal rights.
+
+INDEMNITY
+You will indemnify and hold the Project, its directors,
+officers, members and agents harmless from all liability, cost
+and expense, including legal fees, that arise directly or
+indirectly from any of the following that you do or cause:
+[1] distribution of this etext, [2] alteration, modification,
+or addition to the etext, or [3] any Defect.
+
+DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm"
+You may distribute copies of this etext electronically, or by
+disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this
+"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg,
+or:
+
+[1]  Only give exact copies of it.  Among other things, this
+     requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the
+     etext or this "small print!" statement.  You may however,
+     if you wish, distribute this etext in machine readable
+     binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form,
+     including any form resulting from conversion by word pro-
+     cessing or hypertext software, but only so long as
+     *EITHER*:
+
+     [*]  The etext, when displayed, is clearly readable, and
+          does *not* contain characters other than those
+          intended by the author of the work, although tilde
+          (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may
+          be used to convey punctuation intended by the
+          author, and additional characters may be used to
+          indicate hypertext links; OR
+
+     [*]  The etext may be readily converted by the reader at
+          no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent
+          form by the program that displays the etext (as is
+          the case, for instance, with most word processors);
+          OR
+
+     [*]  You provide, or agree to also provide on request at
+          no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the
+          etext in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC
+          or other equivalent proprietary form).
+
+[2]  Honor the etext refund and replacement provisions of this
+     "Small Print!" statement.
+
+[3]  Pay a trademark license fee to the Project of 20% of the
+     net profits you derive calculated using the method you
+     already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  If you
+     don't derive profits, no royalty is due.  Royalties are
+     payable to "Project Gutenberg Association/Carnegie-Mellon
+     University" within the 60 days following each
+     date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare)
+     your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return.
+
+WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO?
+The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time,
+scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty
+free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution
+you can think of.  Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg
+Association / Carnegie-Mellon University".
+
+*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END*
+
+
+
+
+
+Etext scanned by Dianne Bean of Phoenix, Arizona
+
+
+
+
+
+SONG AND LEGEND FROM THE MIDDLE AGES
+
+SELECTED AND ARRANGED
+
+By WILLIAM D. MCCLINTOCK
+Assistant Professor of English Literature, University Of Chicago
+AND
+PORTER LANDER McCLINTOCK
+
+
+
+
+Chautauqua Reading Circle Literature
+1893
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+I.   FRENCH LITERATURE
+II.  SPANISH LITERATURE
+III. SCANDINAVIAN LITERATURE
+IV.  GERMAN LITERATURE
+V.   ITALIAN LITERATURE
+
+READING LIST.
+Owing to the necessarily fragmentary character of the readings of
+this volume, it has seemed well to the editors to indicate a list
+of books for those who wish a wider reading In Mediaeval
+Literature. These books are all available and cheap.
+
+1. French Literature.
+(1) Longfellow's "Poets and Poetry of Europe".
+(2) O'Hagan's "The Song of Roland".
+(3) Rourdillon's "Aucassin and Nicolette".
+(4) Malory's "Morte Darthur".
+(5) Chaucer's "Romance of the Rose".
+(6) Caxton's "Reynard the Fox".
+(7) Saintsbury's "Short History of French Literature".
+2. Spanish Literature.
+(1) Longfellow, as above.
+(2) Ormsby's "The Cid".
+(3) Lockhart's "Ancient Spanish Ballads".
+3. Scandinavian Literature.
+(1) Longfellow, as above.
+(2) Anderson's "Norse Mythology".
+4. German Literature.
+(1) Longfellow, as above.
+(2) Lettsom's "Niebelungenlied".
+(3) Scherer's "History of German Literature".
+5. Italian Literature.
+(1) Longfellow, as above.
+(2) Rossetti's "Dante and his Circle".
+(3) Cary's "The Divine Comedy".
+(4) Norton's "The Divine Comedy".
+(5) Campbell's "The Sonnets and Poems of Petrarch".
+
+
+PREFACE.
+
+The aim of this little book is to give general readers some idea
+of the subject and spirit of European Continental literature in
+the later and culminating period of the Middle Ages--the
+eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth centuries.
+
+It goes without saying that translations and selections are, in
+general, inadequate to the satisfactory representation of any
+literature. No piece of writing, of course, especially no piece
+of poetry, can be perfectly rendered into another tongue; no
+piece of writing can be fairly represented by detached portions.
+But to the general English reader Continental Mediaeval
+literature, so long as it remains in the original tongues, is
+inaccessible; and translations of many entire works are not
+within easy reach.
+
+What translation and selection can do in this case, is to put
+into the hands of the ordinary student of the Middle Ages
+sufficient material for forming an estimate of the subjects that
+interested the mediaeval mind and the spirit in which they were
+treated. And this is what the general reader desires. Matters of
+form and expression--the points that translation cannot
+reproduce--belong, of course, to the specialist.
+
+The claim that so slender a volume of selections can represent
+even the subject and spirit of so vast a body of literature, is
+saved from being unreasonable or presumptuous by a consideration
+of the fact that, from causes easy to trace, the national
+literatures of Continental Europe had many common
+characteristics: the range of subjects was not unlimited; the
+spirit is the same in all.
+
+No English is included for two reasons: Mediaeval English
+literature is easily accessible to those readers for whom this
+book is prepared; during the special period in which the best
+mediaeval literature was developed, England was comparatively
+unproductive.
+
+The constant aim has been to put before the reader the literature
+itself, with comment barely sufficient to make an intelligible
+setting for the selections. Criticism of all kinds has been
+avoided, so that the reader may come to his material with
+judgment entirely unbiased.
+The translations used have been selected largely with a view to
+their accessibility, so that readers who desire to enlarge the
+scope of their reading may easily find the books they need.
+Caxton's "Reynard the Fox", and "The Romance of the Rose",
+attributed to Chaucer, were chosen because they convey an
+impression of the quaint flavor of the original, which is lost in
+a modern version. The slight adaptations and transliterations
+made in these two selections are entirely defensible on the score
+of intelligibility.
+
+Our acknowledgments are due to Prof. William I. Knapp, of the
+University of Chicago, for the use of books from his valuable
+library, and for the permission, most highly prized, to print for
+the first time some of his translations of the Cid ballads.
+
+THE EDITORS.  Chicago, April, 1893.
+
+
+INTRODUCTION.
+
+The Middle Ages extend from the fifth to the fifteenth century,
+from the fall of the Roman Empire to the establishment of the
+great modern states. The general outline of the history of the
+Middle Ages can be seen in the following excellent table:[1]
+
+[1] Drury's "History of the Middle Ages",  page XIV.
+
+1. The decline of the Roman Empire and the successful
+accomplishment of two invasions.
+
+2. The transient brilliancy of the Arabian civilization.
+
+3. The attempted organization of a new empire by Charlemagne, and
+its dissolution.
+
+4. The rise and prevalence of feudalism.
+
+5. The successive crusades.
+
+6. The contest between the pope and the emperor for the
+sovereignty of the world.
+
+The history of these ten centuries falls naturally into three
+great divisions:
+
+1. Fifth to tenth century, the destruction of the past and
+transition to new forms.
+
+2. Eleventh to thirteenth century, feudal society with its
+customs, its institutions, its arts, and its literatures.
+
+3. The fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, a second time of
+transition.
+
+The period, then, of the eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth
+centuries was one of intense political life, of advanced national
+self-consciousness, of rich, highly-organized society. It was
+moreover a period of common ideas, movements, and tendencies over
+all Europe. Several factors enter into this result:
+
+1. The church was completely organized, forming a common life and
+teaching everywhere. She had learned to employ the savage vigor
+and conquering instincts of the northern barbarians as defenses
+and aggressive missions of her spirit and ideas. The monasteries
+were homes of learning, and from them issued the didactic
+literature and the early drama.
+
+2. This resulted in that romantic institution or ideal of
+chivalry, whose ten commandments explain so much of mediaeval
+life and art.[1]
+
+[1] "Chivalry", by Leon Gautier, 1891, p. 26.
+
+
+(1) Thou shalt believe all the church teaches, and shalt observe
+all its directions.
+
+(2) Thou shalt defend the church.
+
+(3) Thou shalt respect all weaknesses, and shalt constitute
+thyself the defender of them.
+
+(4) Thou shalt love the country in which thou wast born.
+
+(5) Thou shalt not recoil before thine enemy.
+
+(6) Thou shalt make war against the inflael without cessation and
+without mercy.
+
+(7) Thou shalt perform scrupulously thy feudal duties, if they be
+not contrary to the law of God.
+
+(8) Thou shalt never lie, and shalt remain faithful to thy
+pledged word.
+
+(9) Thou shalt be generous and give largesse to every one.
+
+(10) Thou shalt be everywhere and always the champion of the
+Right and the Good against Injustice and Evil.
+
+3. This combination of the Christian and the warrior found its
+public activity most completely in the Crusades. They gave a
+common motive and ideal to all the knights of Europe. They
+brought them together for thinking and for fighting. They spread
+national traditions and literatures. They made the whole face of
+Europe and the borders of the Mediterranean known to the
+ambitious, venturesome, daring, and heroic of every European
+country. The exploits of chivalric knights were told from camp to
+camp and taken back home to be told again in the castles.
+
+4. Another institution of feudalism that helped to make this
+common subject and spirit of mediaeval literature was the
+minstrel, who was attached to every well-appointed castle. This
+picturesque poet--gleeman, trouvere or troubadour sang heroic
+stories and romances of love in the halls of castles and in the
+market places of towns. He borrowed from and copied others and
+helped to make the common method and traditions of mediaeval
+song.
+
+5. Other elements in this result were the extensions of commerce
+and the growth of traveling as a pleasure.
+
+6. Finally, the itinerant students and teachers of mediaeval
+universities assisted in the making of this common fund of ideas
+and material for literature.
+
+(7) Behind and within all the separate national literatures lay
+the common Christian-Latin literature of the early Middle Ages,
+undoubtedly the cause of the rather startling perfection of form
+shown by much of the work of the period we are studying.[1]
+
+[1] See Ebert "Allgemeine Geschichte der Literatur des
+Mittelalters". Vol. I., p. 11.
+
+
+The result of all these unifying tendencies is to give a strong
+family likeness to the productions of the various European
+countries of the eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth centuries. The
+subject matter often varies, but the motive and form of writing
+are much alike. This likeness can be seen by a short survey of
+the more important kinds of literature of the period.
+
+I. THE NATIONAL EPIC.
+
+In every country in which the national epic grew up it had the
+same origin and line of development. First there was the
+historical hero. His deeds were related by the traveling gleeman
+or minstrel--in brief chapters or ballads. Gradually mythical and
+supernatural elements came in; the number of achievements and the
+number of ballads grew very large; in this oral state they
+continued for many years, sometimes for centuries.
+
+Finally, they were collected, edited, and written down--generally
+by a single editor. In all cases the names of the poets of the
+ballads are lost; in most cases the names of their redactors are
+but conjectural. "The Song of Roland", and the "Poem of the Cid"
+are typical, simple, national epics. The "Niebelungen Lied" is
+complicated by the fact that the legends of many heroes are fused
+into one poem, by the fact that it had more than one editor, and
+by the survival of mythological elements which mingle confusedly
+with Christian features. The national epic is the expression of
+the active side of chivalry. Italy has no national epic, both
+because she was too learned to develop a folk-poetry, and because
+the ideas of chivalry were never very active in her history.
+
+II. ROMANCES.
+
+The numberless romances that sprang up in the literary period of
+the Middle Ages may be thrown into three groups:
+
+1. Those belonging to the legend of Arthur and the Round Table.
+They had their starting point in the history of Geoffrey of
+Monmouth, which was partly invented, but had some basis in a
+tradition common to the Bretons and the Welsh. The romances based
+upon this legend sprang up apparently simultaneously in England
+and France. Through minstrel romances, founded upon the Breton
+popular tradition, the Arthur legend probably first found its way
+into European literature. With it was early fused the stories of
+the Holy Grail and of Parzival. In the twelfth century these
+stories were widely popular in literary form in France and
+Germany, and later they passed into Italy, Spain, and
+Scandinavia. Their influence upon the life and thought of
+Mediaeval Europe is very important. They did much to modify the
+entire institution of chivalry.[1]
+
+[1] Leon Gautier's "Chivalry", chap. IV., Section V.
+
+
+2. The Romances of Antiquity, of which there are three varieties:
+
+(1) Those which were believed to be direct reproductions, such as
+the Romances of Thebes, of Aeneas, of Troy, whose authors
+acknowledged a debt to Vergil, Statius, and other classic
+writers.
+
+(2) Those based upon ancient history not previously versified,
+such as the Romance of Alexander.
+
+(3) Those which reproduced the names and nothing else from
+antiquity.
+
+These romances, too, were a common European possession. The most
+important and influential of them are the Romance of Troy, and
+the Romance of Alexander. They appear in different forms in the
+literature of every mediaeval nation in Europe.
+
+3. There was in each national literature a vast number of
+unaffiliated romances. A romance of this group usually contained
+a love story, a tale of adventure, or a religious experience in
+the form of a story. They are not clearly distinct from the class
+of popular tales. On the whole, the romance is more serious and
+dignified than the tale. Examples of this kind of a romance are
+Hartmann von Aue's "Henry the Leper", and the French "Flore et
+Blanchefleur".
+
+
+III. LYRICS.
+
+Perhaps no other part of its literature shows more striking proof
+of the common life and interests of Mediaeval Europe than does
+the lyric poetry of the period. In Northern France, in Provence,
+in all parts of Germany, in Italy, and a little later in Spain,
+we see a most remarkable outburst of song. The subjects were the
+same in all the countries. Love-the love of feudal
+chivalry--patriotism, and religion were the themes that employed
+the mediaeval lyrist in whatever country he sang. In all these
+lyrics much was made of form, the verse being always skillfully
+constructed, sometimes very complicated. The lyric poetry of
+Italy was more learned and more finished in style than that of
+the other countries.
+
+In Northern France the poet was called a trouvere, in Provence a
+troubadour, in Germany a minnesinger. The traveling minstrel was
+in France a jongleur (Provencal jogleur). The distinction between
+trouvere or troubadour and jongleur is not always to be sharply
+drawn. Sometimes in France and Provence the same poet composed
+his verses and sang them--was both trouvere or troubadour and
+jongleur; while in Germany the minnesingers were generally both
+poets and minstrels.
+
+IV. TALES AND FABLES.
+
+No distinct line can be drawn between Tales and Fables; between
+Romances and Tales; nor between Fables and Allegories. These
+varieties of writings merge into one another.
+
+The number of tales in circulation in Mediaeval Europe was
+exceedingly large. These tales came from many different sources:
+from Oriental lands, introduced by the Moors, or brought back by
+the crusaders; from ancient classical literature; from traditions
+of the church and the lives of the saints; from the old
+mythologies; from common life and experience. Among many
+mediaeval collections of them, the most famous are the
+"Decameron" of Boccaccio, and the "Geste Romanorum", a collection
+made and used by the priests in instructing their people.
+
+V. DIDACTIC AND ALLEGORICAL LITERATURE.
+
+Under didactic literature we would include a large mass of
+writing not strictly to be called pure literature--sermons,
+homilies, chronicles, bestiaries, and chronologies. Nearly all
+these were written in verse, as prose did not begin to be used
+for literature until very late in the Middle Ages.
+The mediaeval mind, under the influence of the scholastic
+theology, grew very fond of allegory. The list of allegories is
+exhaustless, and some of the allegories well-nigh interminable.
+It is not easy to say whether the "Romance of Reynard the Fox" is
+a series of fables or an allegory. The fact that a satire on
+human affairs runs through it constantly, warrants us in calling
+it an allegory. Some phase of the Reynard legend formed the
+medium of expression of the thought of every mediaeval nation in
+Europe. Perhaps the most popular and influential allegory of the
+Middle Ages was "The Romance of the Rose", written in France but
+translated or imitated in every other country. Dante's "Divine
+Comedy" is an allegory of a very elevated kind.
+
+VI. THE DRAMA.
+
+The origin and line of development of the drama in all the
+countries of Mediaeval Europe is this: Dramatic representations
+in connection with the liturgy of the church were first used in
+the service; then they were extended to church festivals and
+ceremonies. By degrees portions of Bible history were thrown into
+dramatic form; then the lives of the saints furnished material. A
+distinction grew up between Mystery Plays--those founded on Bible
+history--and Miracle Plays--those founded on the lives of the
+saints. These plays were performed both in the churches and in
+the open air. They were written usually by the clergy. Gradually
+there grew up a play in which the places of religious characters
+were taken by abstract virtues and vices personified, and plays
+called Moralities were produced. They were played chiefly by
+tradesmen's guilds. Alongside the sacred drama are to be found
+occasional secular dramatic attempts, farces, carnival plays, and
+profane mysteries. But their number and significance are small.
+The mediaeval drama is historically interesting, but in itself
+does not contain much interest. It is impossible to give an idea
+of it by selection.
+
+
+SONG AND LEGEND FROM THE MIDDLE AGES.
+
+CHAPTER I. FRENCH LITERATURE.
+
+French Literature of the Middle Ages was produced between the
+eleventh and the fifteenth centuries, having its greatest
+development in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. It must be
+divided into two sections according to the part of France where
+it was produced.
+
+I. French Literature proper, or that composed in the northern
+half of France.
+
+II. Provencal Literature, or that developed in Provence.
+
+The most obvious difference between these is that the Provencal
+literature had little of the epic and romantic, but developed the
+lyric extensively, especially lyrics of love.
+
+The following table will show the more important kinds of French
+Mediaeval Literature.[1]
+
+[1] This classification is adapted from M. Gaston Paris'
+excellent sketch "La Litterature Francaise au Moyen Age", 1890,
+and Saintsbury's "Short History of French Literature", 1889.
+
+
+I. Narrative Literature.
+
+1. The National Epics.
+
+2. Romances of Antiquity.
+
+3. Arthurian Romances.
+
+4. Romances of Adventure.
+
+5. Tales and Fables.
+
+6. Chronicles.
+
+II. Didactic Literature.
+
+1. Allegories--"The Romance of the Rose".
+
+2. Satires.
+
+3. Homilies, etc.
+
+
+III. Lyric Literature.
+
+THE NATIONAL EPICS.
+
+The French national epics (called "Chansons de Gestes", songs of
+heroic deeds) are those narrative poems which are founded on
+early French history, and recount the deeds of national heroes.
+They are, for the most part, based on the deeds of Charlemagne
+and his nobles. They are peculiar to Northern France. Their date
+of production extends from the eleventh to the fourteenth
+century, their best development being in the eleventh and
+twelfth.
+
+These epic poems number more than one hundred. They vary in
+length from one thousand to thirty thousand lines. The whole mass
+is said to contain between two and three million lines. Like all
+folk epics, they are based upon earlier ballads composed by many
+different poets. These ballads were never written down and are
+completely lost. The epic is a compilation and adaptation,
+presumably by a single poet, of the material of the ballads. In
+every case the names of the poets of the French epics are lost.
+They were trouveres and their poems were carried about in memory
+or in manuscript by the jongleurs or minstrels, and sung from
+castle to castle and in the market places. The best of them are:
+"The Song of Roland"; "Amis et Amiles"; "Aliscans"; "Gerard de
+Roussillon"; "Raoul de Cambrai". Of these the oldest and
+confessedly the greatest is The Song of Roland, from which our
+extracts are taken.
+
+The Song of Roland is based upon the following events (the events
+as narrated in the poem differ widely from those of the actual
+history): Charlemagne has warred seven years in Spain, when
+Marsile, king of Saragossa, the only city that has withstood the
+emperor, sends a feigned submission. Roland, the king's nephew,
+offers to go to Saragossa to settle the terms of the treaty. He
+is rejected as too impetuous, when he suggests that Ganelon go.
+This bitterly annoys Ganelon, and when he meets Marsile he makes
+a treacherous plot by which Charlemagne is to be induced to go
+back to France, with Roland in command of the rear guard. The
+plan works, and when the advanced party of the French army is out
+of reach, the Saracens fall upon the rear guard in the pass of
+Roncevalles and completely destroy it. The death of Roland, the
+return and grief of the king, and his vengeance on the pagans
+form the central incident of the poem. Ganelon is afterwards
+tried for his treachery, condemned, and executed.
+
+THE SONG OF ROLAND.
+
+Stanza I.--
+The king, our Emperor Carlemaine,
+Hath been for seven full years in Spain.
+From highland to sea hath he won the land;
+City was none might his arm withstand;
+Keep and castle alike went down--
+Save Saragossa, the mountain town.
+The King Marsilius holds the place,
+Who loveth not God, nor seeks His grace:
+He prays to Apollin, and serves Mahound;
+But he saved him not from the fate he found.
+
+King Marsile held a council and decided to offer Charlemagne a
+feigned submission. Karl summons his council to consider this.
+
+Stanza 8.--
+King Karl is jocund and gay of mood,
+He hath Cordres city at last subdued;
+Its shattered walls and turrets fell
+By catapult and mangonel;
+Not a heathen did there remain
+But confessed himself Christian or else was slain.
+The Emperor sits in an orchard wide,
+Roland and Olivier by his side:
+Samson the duke, and Anseis proud;
+Geoffrey of Anjou, whose arm was vowed
+The royal gonfalon to rear;
+Gereln, and his fellow in arms, Gerier:
+With them many a gallant lance,
+Full fifteen thousand of gentle France.
+The cavaliers sit upon carpets white
+Playing at tables for their delight;
+The older and sager sit at chess,
+The bachelors fence with a light address.
+Seated underneath a pine,
+Close beside an eglantine,
+Upon a throne of beaten gold,
+The lord of ample France behold;
+White his hair and beard were seen,
+Fair of body, and proud of mien,
+Who sought him needed not ask, I ween.
+The ten alight before his feet,
+And him in all observance greet.
+
+The treacherous plot has succeeded. Charles, with the main part
+of his army, has gone ahead, the Saracens have fallen on the
+rear-guard, and are destroying it. Oliver begs Roland to sound
+his wonderful horn and summon aid.
+
+Stanza 87.--
+"O Roland, sound on your ivory horn,
+To the ear of Karl shall the blast be borne:
+He will bid his legions backward bend,
+And all his barons their aid will lend."
+"Now God forbid it, for very shame,
+That for my kindred were stained with blame,
+Or that gentle France to such vileness fell:
+This good sword that hath served me well,
+My Durindana such strokes shall deal,
+That with blood encrimsoned shall be the steel.
+By their evil star are the felons led;
+They shall all be numbered among the dead!"
+
+Stanza 88.--
+"Roland, Roland, yet wind one blast!
+Karl will hear ere the gorge be passed,
+And the Franks return on their path fall fast!
+"I will not sound on mine ivory horn:
+It shall never be spoken of me in scorn,
+That for heathen felons one blast I blew;
+I may not dishonour my lineage true.
+But I will strike, ere this fight be o'er,
+A thousand strokes and seven hundred more,
+And my Durindana will drip with gore.
+Our Franks shall bear them like vassals brave.
+The Saracens shall flock but to find a grave."
+
+Stanza 89.--
+"I deem of neither reproach nor stain.
+I have seen the Saracen host of Spain,
+Over plain and valley and mountain spread,
+And the regions hidden beneath their tread.
+Countless the swarm of the foe, and we
+A marvellous little company."
+Roland answered him, "All the more
+My spirit within me burns therefore.
+God and the angels of heaven defend
+That France through me from her glory bend.
+Death were better than fame laid low.
+Our Emperor loveth a downright blow."
+
+At last Roland blows his horn, but it is too late. All the Moors
+are slain or routed, but so are all the Franks save Roland, and
+he has received his death blow.
+
+Stanza 195--
+That Death was on him he knew full well;
+Down from his head to his heart it fell.
+On the grass beneath a pinetree's shade,
+With face to earth his form he laid,
+Beneath him placed he his horn and sword,
+And turned his face to the heathen horde.
+Thus hath he done the sooth to show,
+That Karl and his warriors all may know,
+That the gentle count a conqueror died.
+Mea Culpa full oft he cried;
+And, for all his sins, unto God above,
+In sign of penance, he raised his glove.
+
+Stanza 197.--
+Beneath a pine was his resting-place,
+To the land of Spain hath he turned his face.
+On his memory rose full many a thought
+Of the lands he won and the fields he fought;
+Of his gentle France, of his kin and line;
+Of his nursing father King Karl benign;
+He may not the tear and sob control,
+Nor yet forgets he his parting soul.
+To God's compassion he makes his cry:
+"O Father true, who canst not lie,
+Who didst Lazarus raise unto life again,
+And Daniel shield in the lions' den;
+Shield my soul from its peril, due
+For the sins I sinned my lifetime through."
+He did his right hand glove upliftst.
+Gabriel took from his hand the gift;
+Then drooped his head upon his breast,
+And with clasped hands he went to rest.
+God from on high sent down to him
+One of his angel cherubim--
+Saint Michael of Peril of the sea,
+Saint Gabriel in company--
+From heaven they came for that soul of price,
+And they bore it with them to Paradise.
+
+The king hears Roland's horn and hurries back, only to find him
+and all his knights slain. He swoons, revives, but swoons again.
+
+Stanza 212.--
+As Karl the king revived once more,
+His hands were held by barons four.
+He saw his nephew, cold and wan;
+Stark his frame, but his hue was gone;
+His eyes turned inward, dark and dim;
+And Karl in love lamented him:
+"Dear Roland, God thy spirit rest
+In paradise, amongst His blest!
+In evil hour thou soughtest Spain:
+No day shall dawn but sees my pain,
+And me of strength and pride bereft,
+No champion of mine honour left;
+Without a friend beneath the sky;
+And though my kindred still be nigh,
+Is none like thee their ranks among."
+With both his hands his beard he wrung.
+The Franks bewailed in unison;
+A hundred thousand wept like one.
+
+Stanza 213.--
+"Dear Roland, I return again
+To Laon, to mine own domain;
+Where men will come from many a land,
+And seek Count Roland at my hand.
+A bitter tale must I unfold--
+'In Spanish earth he lieth cold.'
+A joyless realm henceforth I hold,
+And weep with daily tears untold.
+
+ Stanza 214--
+"Dear Roland, beautiful and brave,
+All men of me will tidings crave,
+When I return to La Chapelle.
+Oh, what a tale is mine to tell!
+That low my glorious nephew lies.
+Now will the Saxon foeman rise;
+Palermitan and Afric bands,
+And men from fierce and distant lands.
+To sorrow sorrow must succeed;
+My hosts to battle who shall lead,
+When the mighty captain is overthrown?
+Ah! France deserted now, and lone.
+Come, death, before such grief I bear."
+Began he with his hands to tear;
+A hundred thousand fainted there.
+
+Stanza 215.--
+"Dear Roland, and was this thy fate?
+May Paradise thy soul await.
+Who slew thee wrought fair France's bane:
+I cannot live so deep my pain.
+For me my kindred lie undone;
+And would to Holy Mary's Son,
+Ere I at Cizra's gorge alight,
+My soul may take its parting flight:
+My spirit would with theirs abide;
+My body rest their dust beside."
+With sobs his hoary beard he tore.
+"Alas!" said Naimes, "for the Emperor."
+
+The Franks take terrible vengeance on the Moors who survive. Then
+they bury their dead comrades and all return to France.
+
+Stanza 225.
+--From Spain the Emperor made retreat,
+To Aix in France, his kingly seat;
+And thither, to his halls, there came,
+Alda, the fair and gentle dame.
+"Where is my Roland, sire," she cried,
+"Who vowed to take me for his bride?
+O'er Karl the flood of sorrow swept;
+He tore his beard and loud he wept.
+"Dear Sister, gentle friend," he said,
+"Thou seekest one who lieth dead:
+I plight to thee my son instead,--
+Louis, who lord of my realm shall be."
+"Strange," she said, "this seems to me.
+God and his angels forbid that I
+Should live on earth if Poland die."
+Pale grow her cheek--she sank amain,
+Down at the feet of Carlemaine.
+So died she. God receive her soul!
+The Franks bewail her in grief and dole.
+
+Stanza 226.--
+So to her death went Alda fair.
+The king but deemed she fainted there.
+While dropped his tears of pity warm,
+He took her hands and raised her form.
+Upon his shoulder drooped her head,
+And Karl was ware that she was dead.
+When thus he saw that life was o'er,
+He summoned noble ladies four.
+Within a cloister was she borne;
+They watched beside her until morn;
+Beneath a shrine her limbs were laid;
+Such honour Karl to Alda paid.
+
+
+ROMANCES.
+
+Another form of narrative literature in the Middle Ages is that
+of Romances, and the great products of it are the Arthurian
+Romances and the Romances of Antiquity. THE ARTHURIAN CYCLE OF
+ROMANCES is a set of romantic stories founded on the legends of
+Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, with which was early
+fused the legend of the Holy Graal. The legend has sources as far
+back as the ninth century, but expanded into definite shape in
+France and England in the twelfth. It had its first and highest
+popular development in France. Here they were collected and
+thrown into verse by Chrestien de Troyes. It became at once a
+general European possession and expanded to vast proportions. In
+England the Arthur stories flourished both independently and as
+translations from French. Sir Thomas Malory collected in the
+latter part of the fifteenth century a great number of these
+sources, translated, edited, abridged, and rewrote the whole into
+that charming book "Morte D'Arthur". It is accepted that this
+book, though so late, gives a true impression of the
+characteristics of the older romances. We select from this rather
+than from other translations of French originals, to give a
+mediaeval flavor to the selection and have the advantage of
+quoting a classic.
+
+Alongside the Arthurian Romances, flourished many romances of
+antiquity. The more important of these cycles are the ROMANCE OF
+ALEXANDER and the ROMANCE OF TROY, while others worth mentioning
+are the ROMANCE OF THEBES and the ROMANCE OF AENEAS. They are all
+very long poems, consisting of series of stories partly derived
+from classic sources, partly invented by trouveres. They are
+important (1) as connecting, however loosely, mediaeval with
+classical literature, and (2) as showing some scholarship on the
+part of their authors and interest in general culture.
+
+
+FROM MORTE D'ARTHUR.
+
+Book I. Chapter 23.
+
+How Arthur by the mean of Merlin gat Excalibur his sword of the
+Lady of the lake.
+
+Right so the king and he departed, and went until an hermit that
+was a good man and a great leach. So the hermit searched all his
+wounds and gave him good salves; so the king was there three
+days, and then were his wounds well amended that he might ride
+and go, and so departed. And as they rode, Arthur said, I have no
+sword. No force, said Merlin, hereby is a sword that shall be
+yours and I may. So they rode till they came to a lake, the which
+was a fair water and broad, and in the midst of the lake Arthur
+was ware of an arm clothed in white samite, that held a fair
+sword in that hand. Lo, said Merlin, yonder is that sword that I
+spake of. With that they saw a damsel going upon the lake: What
+damsel is that? said Arthur. That is the Lady of the lake, said
+Merlin; and within that lake is a rock, and therein is as fair a
+place as any on earth, and richly beseen, and this damsel will
+come to you anon, and then speak ye fair to her that she will
+give you that sword. Anon withal came the damsel unto Arthur and
+saluted him, and he her again. Damsel, said Arthur, what sword is
+that, that yonder the arm holdeth above the water? I would it
+were mine' for I have no sword. Sir Arthur king, said the damsel,
+that sword is mine, and if ye will give me a gift when I ask it
+you, ye shall have it. By my faith, said Arthur, I will give you
+what gift ye will ask. Well, said the damsel, go ye into yonder
+barge and row yourself to the sword, and take it and the scabbard
+with you, and I will ask my gift when I see my time. So Sir
+Arthur and Merlin alight, and tied their horses to two trees, and
+so they went into the ship, and when they came to the sword that
+the hand held, Sir Arthur took it up by the handles, and took it
+with him. And the arm and the hand went under the water; and so
+they came unto the land and rode forth.
+
+Book III. Chapter 1.
+
+How king Arthur took a wife, and wedded Guenever daughter to
+Leodegrance, king of the land of Cameliard, with whom he had the
+Round Table.
+
+In the beginning of Arthur, after he was chosen king by adventure
+and by grace--for the most part of the barons knew not that he
+was Uther Pendragon's son, but as Merlin made it openly
+known,--many kings and lords made great war against him for that
+cause; but well Arthur overcame them all; for the most part of
+the days of his life he was ruled much by the council of Merlin.
+So it fell on a time king Arthur said unto Merlin, My barons will
+let me have no rest, but needs I must take a wife, and I will
+none take but by thy council and by thine advice. It is well
+done, said Merlin, that ye take a wife, for a man of your bounty
+and nobleness should not be without a wife. Now is there any that
+ye love more than another? Yea, said king Arthur, I love
+Guenever, the daughter of king Leodegrance, of the land of
+Cameliard, which Leodegrance holdeth in his house the Table
+Round, that ye told he had of my father, Uther. And this damsel
+is the most valiant and fairest lady that I know living, or yet
+that ever I could find. Sir, said Merlin, as of her beauty and
+fairness she is one of the fairest on live. But and ye loved her
+not so well as ye do, I could find you a damsel of beauty and of
+goodness that should like you and please you, and your heart
+were not set; but there as a man's heart is set, he will be loth
+to return. That is truth, said king Arthur. But Merlin warned the
+king covertly that Guenever was not wholesome for him to take to
+wife, for he warned him that Launcelot should love her, and she
+him again; and so he turned his tale to the adventures of the
+Sangreal. Then Merlin desired of the king to have men with him
+that should enquire of Guenever, and so the king granted him. And
+Merlin went forth to king Leodegrance of Cameliard, and told him
+of the desire of the king that he would have unto his wife
+Guenever his daughter. That is to me, said king Leodegrance, the
+best tidings that ever I heard, that so worthy a king of prowess
+and noblesse will wed my daughter. And as for my lands I will
+give him wist I it might please him, but he hath lands enough,
+him needeth none, but I shall send him a gift shall please him
+much more, for I shall give him the Table Round, the which Uther
+Pendragon gave me, and when it is full complete there is an
+hundred knights and fifty. And as for an hundred good knights I
+have myself, but I lack fifty, for so many have been slain in my
+days. And so king Leodegrance delivered his daughter Guenever
+unto Merlin, and the Table Round, with the hundred knights, and
+so they rode freshly, with great royalty, what by water and what
+by land, till that they came nigh unto London.
+
+Book III. Chapter 2.
+
+How the knights of the Round Table were ordained, and their
+sieges blessed by the bishop of Canterbury.
+
+When king Arthur heard Of the coming of Guenever and the hundred
+knights with the Table Round, then king Arthur made great joy for
+their coming, and that rich present, and said openly, This fair
+lady is passing welcome unto me, for I have loved her long, and
+therefore there is nothing so lief to me. And these knights with
+the Round Table please me more than right great riches. And in
+all haste the king let ordain for the marriage and the coronation
+in the most honourablest wise that could be devised. Now Merlin,
+said king Arthur, go thou and espy me in all this land fifty
+knights which be of most prowess and worship. Within short time
+Merlin had found such knights that should fulfil twenty and eight
+knights, but no more he could find. Then the bishop of Canterbury
+was fetched, and he blessed the sieges with great royalty and
+devotion, and there set the eight and twenty knights in their
+sieges. And when this was done Merlin said, Fair sirs, ye must
+all arise and come to king Arthur for to do him homage; he will
+have the better will to maintain you. And so they arose and did
+their homage. And when they were gone Merlin found in every siege
+letters of gold that told the knights' names that had sitten
+therein. But two sieges were void: And so anon came young
+Gawaine, and asked the king a gift. Ask, said the king, and I
+shall grant it you. Sir, I ask that ye will make me knight that
+same day ye shall wed fair Guenever. I will do it with a good
+will, said king Arthur, and do unto you all the worship that I
+may, for I must by reason you are my nephew, my sister's son.
+
+It is now the Vigil of the feast of Pentecost, and the knights
+are all at Arthur's court. Sir Launcelot is suddenly desired to
+go on a mission by a fair damsel who takes him to a forest and an
+abbey.
+
+Book XIII. Chapter 1.
+
+Truly, said Sir Launcelot, a gentlewoman brought me hither, but I
+know not the cause. In the meanwhile, as they thus stood talking
+together, there came twelve nuns which brought with them Galahad,
+the which was passing fair and well made, that unneth in the
+world men might not find his match; and all those ladies wept.
+Sir, said the ladies, we bring you here this child, the which we
+have nourished, and we pray you to make him a knight; for of a
+more worthier man's hand may he not receive the order of
+knighthood. Sir Launcelot beheld that young squire, and saw him
+seemly and demure as a dove, with all manner of good features,
+that he wend of his age never to have seen so fair a man of form.
+Then said Sir Launcelot, Cometh this desire of himself? He and
+all they said, Yea. Then shall he, said Sir Launcelot, receive
+the high order of knighthood as tomorrow at the reverence of the
+high feast. That night Sir Launcelot had passing good cheer, and
+on the morn at the hour of prime, at Galahad's desire, he made
+him knight, and said, God make him a good man, For beauty faileth
+you not as any that liveth.
+
+Sir Launcelot returns to court. It is noticed that the back of
+the "siege (seat) perilous," at the Round Table has a new
+inscription saying that this day this long unfilled seat should
+be filled. Before sitting down to feast on this day, it was an
+old custom to see "some adventure."
+
+Book XIII. Chapter 2.
+
+So as they stood speaking, in came a squire, and said unto the
+king, Sir, I bring unto you marvellous tidings. What be they?
+said the king. Sir, there is here beneath at the river a great
+stone, which I saw fleet above the water, and therein saw I
+sticking a sword. The king said, I will see that marvel. So all
+the knights went with him, and when they came unto the river,
+they found there a stone fleeting, as it were of red marble, and
+therein stack a fair and a rich sword, and in the pomell thereof
+were precious stones, wrought with subtil letters of gold. Then
+the barons read the letters, which said in this wise: Never shall
+man take me hence but only he by whose side I ought to hang, and
+he shall be the best knight of the world. When the king had seen
+these letters, he said unto Sir Launcelot, Fair sir, this sword
+ought to be yours, for I am sure ye be the best knight of the
+world. Then Sir Launcelot answered full soberly: Certes, sir, it
+is not my sword: also, sir, wit ye well I have no hardiness to
+set my hand to, for it longed not to hang by my side. Also who
+that assayeth to take that sword, and falleth of it, he shall
+receive a wound by that sword, that he shall not be whole long
+after. And I will that ye wit that this same day will the
+adventures of the Sancgreal, that is called the holy vessel,
+begin.
+
+Sir Gawaine tries to draw out the sword but fails. They sit at
+table and an old man brings in the young knight, Sir Galahad.
+
+Book XIII. Chapter 4.
+
+Then the old man made the young man to unarm him; and he was in a
+coat of red sendel, and bare a mantle upon his shoulder that was
+furred with ermine, and put that upon him. And the old knight
+said unto the young knight, Sir, follow me. And anon he led him
+unto the siege perilous, where beside sat Sir Launcelot, and the
+good man lift up the cloth, and found there letters that said
+thus: This is the siege of Galahad the haut prince. Sir, said the
+old knight, wit ye well that place is yours. And then he set him
+down surely in that siege . . . . . . . . . Then all the knights
+of the Table Round marvelled them greatly of Sir Galahad, that he
+durst sit there in that siege perilous, and was so tender of age,
+and wist not from whence he came, but all only by God, and said,
+This is he by whom the Sancgreal shall be achieved, for there sat
+never none but he, but he were mischieved.
+
+King Arthur showed the stone with the sword in it to Sir Galahad.
+He lightly drew out the sword and put it in his sheath. Then the
+king had all his knights come together to joust ere they
+departed.
+
+
+Book XIII. Chapter 6.
+
+Now, said the king, I am sure at this quest of the Sancgreal
+shall all ye of the Table Round depart, and never shall I see you
+again whole together, therefore I will see you all whole together
+in the meadow of Camelot, to just and to tourney, that after your
+death men may speak of it, that such good knights were wholly
+together such a day. As unto that council, and at the king's
+request, they accorded ill, and took on their harness that longed
+unto justing. But all this moving of the king was for this
+intent, for to see Galahad proved, for the king deemed he should
+not lightly come again unto the court after his departing. So
+were they assembled in the meadow, both more and less. Then Sir
+Galahad, by the prayer of the king and the queen, did upon him a
+noble jesserance, and also he did on his helm, but shield would
+he take none for no prayer of the king. And then Sir Gawaine and
+other knights prayed him to take a spear. Right so he did; and
+the queen was in a tower with all her ladies for to behold that
+tournament. Then Sir Galahad dressed him in the midst of the
+meadow, and began to break spears marvellously, that all men had
+wonder of him, for he there surmounted all other knights, for
+within a while he had thrown down many good knights of the Table
+Round save twain, that was Sir Launcelot and Sir Percivale.
+
+Book XIII. Chapter 7.
+
+And then the king and all estates went home unto Camelot, and so
+went to evensong to the great minster. And so after upon that to
+supper, and every knight sat in his own place as they were
+toforehand. Then anon they heard cracking and crying of thunder,
+that them thought the place should all to- drive. In the midst of
+this blast entered a sun-beam more clearer by seven times than
+ever they saw day, and all they were alighted of the grace of the
+Holy Ghost. Then began every knight to behold other, and either
+saw other by their seeming fairer than ever they saw afore. Not
+for then there was no knight might speak one word a great while,
+and so they looked every man on other, as they had been dumb.
+Then there entered into the hall the holy Graile covered with
+white samite, but there was none might see it, nor who bare it.
+And there was all the hall full filled with good odours, and
+every knight had such meats and drinks as he best loved in this
+world: and when the holy Graile had been borne through the hall,
+then the holy vessel departed suddenly, that they wist not where
+it became. Then had they all breath to speak. And then the king
+yielded thankings unto God of his good grace that he had sent
+them. Certes, said the king, we ought to thank our Lord Jesu
+greatly, for that he hath shewed us this day at the reverence of
+this high feast of Pentecost. Now, said Sir Gawaine, we have been
+served this day of what meats and drinks we thought on, but one
+thing beguiled us, we might not see the holy Graile, it was so
+preciously covered: wherefore I will make here avow, that
+to-morn, without longer abiding, I shall labour in the quest of
+the Sancgreal, that I shall hold me out a twelvemonth and a day,
+or more if need be, and never shall I return again unto the court
+till I have seen it more openly than it hath been seen here; and
+if I may not speed, I shall return again as he that may not be
+against the will of our Lord Jesu Christ. When they of the Table
+Round heard Sir Gawaine say so, they arose up the most party, and
+made such avows as Sir Gawaine had made.
+
+Book XVII. Chapter 20.
+
+How Galahad and his fellows were fed of the holy Sangreal, and
+how our Lord appeared to them, and other things.  Then king
+Pelles and his son departed. And therewithal beseemed them that
+there came a man and four angels from heaven, clothed in likeness
+of a bishop, and had a cross in his hand, and these four angels
+bare him up in a chair, and set him down before the table of
+silver whereupon the Sancgreal was, and it seemed that he had in
+midst of his forehead letters that said, See ye here Joseph the
+first bishop of Christendom, the same which our Lord succoured in
+the city of Sarras, in the spiritual place. Then the knights
+marvelled, for that bishop was dead more than three hundred years
+tofore. Oh knights, said he, marvel not, for I was sometime an
+earthly man. With that they heard the chamber door open, and
+there they saw angels, and two bare candles of wax, and the third
+a towel, and the fourth a spear which bled marvellously, that
+three drops fell within a box which he held with his other hand.
+And they set the candles upon the table, and the third the towel
+upon the vessel, and the fourth, the holy spear even upright upon
+the vessel. And then the bishop made semblant as though he would
+have gone to the sacring of the mass. And then he took an ubbly,
+which was made in likeness of bread; and at the lifting up there
+came a figure in likeness of a child, and the visage was as red
+and as bright as any fire, and smote himself into the bread, so
+that they all saw it, that the bread was formed of a fleshly man,
+and then he put it into the holy vessel again. And then he did
+that longed to a priest to do to a mass. And then he went to
+Galahad and kissed him, and bad him go and kiss his fellows, and
+so he did anon. Now, said he, servants of Jesu Christ, ye shall
+be fed afore this table with sweet meats, that never knights
+tasted. And when he had said, he vanished away; and they set them
+at the table in great dread, and made their prayers. Then looked
+they, and saw a man come out of the holy vessel, that had all the
+signs of the passion of Jesu Christ, bleeding all openly, and
+said, My knights and my servants and my true children, which be
+come out of deadly life into spiritual life, I will now no longer
+hide me from you, but ye shall see now a part of my secrets and
+of my hid things: now hold and receive the high meat which ye
+have so much desired. Then took he himself the holy vessel, and
+came to Galahad, and he kneeled down and there he received his
+Saviour, and after him so received all his fellows; and they
+thought it so sweet that it was marvellous to tell. Then said he
+to Galahad, Son, wotest thou what I hold betwixt my hands? Nay,
+said he, but if ye will tell me. This is, said he, the holy dish
+wherein I ate the lamb on Sher-thursday. And now hast thou seen
+that thou most desiredst to see, but yet hast thou not seen it so
+openly as thou shalt see it in the city of Sarras, in the
+spiritual place.
+
+LYRIC POETRY--FRENCH.
+
+Lyric poetry sprang up very early in Northern France, having a
+spontaneous and abundant growth in the twelfth and thirteenth
+centuries. Of the earliest lyrics, the critics distinguish two
+varieties (l) the Romance, and (2) the Pastourelle. These are
+generally dramatic love stories, full of gay and simple life and
+extremely artistic and musical in form. Along with these was
+produced a vast amount of simple lyric poetry on love and other
+personal emotions. The number of poems written was immense. About
+two hundred names of poets have come down to us, besides hundreds
+of anonymous pieces.
+
+The Romances and Pastourelles of the northern trouveres were soon
+greatly influenced by the more artful poetry of the Provencal
+troubadours, producing the highly artificial but charming
+rondeaus and ballades of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries.
+But the freshest, most individual work is that of the earlier
+time.
+
+CHATELAIN DE COUCY.  Thirteenth Century.
+
+The first approach of the sweet spring
+ Returning here once more,--
+The memory of the love that holds
+ In my fond heart such power,--
+The thrush again his song assaying,--
+The little rills o'er pebbles playing,
+ And sparkling as they fall,--
+ The memory recall
+Of her on whom my heart's desire
+Is, shall be, fixed till I expire.
+
+With every season fresh and new
+ That love is more inspiring:
+Her eyes, her face, all bright with joy,--
+ Her coming, her retiring,
+Her faithful words, her winning ways,--
+That sweet look, kindling up the blaze,
+ Of love, so gently still,
+ To wound, but not to kill,--
+So that when most I weep and sigh,
+So much the higher springs my joy.
+
+--Tr. by Taylor.
+
+
+THIBAUT OF CHAMPAGNE, KING OF NAVARRE. Early Thirteenth Century.
+
+Lady, the fates command, and I must go,--
+ Leaving the pleasant land so dear to me:
+Here my heart suffered many a heavy woe;
+ But what is left to love, thus leaving thee?
+Alas! that cruel land beyond the sea!
+ Why thus dividing many a faithful heart,
+Never again from pain and sorrow free,
+ Never again to meet, when thus they part?
+
+I see not, when thy presence bright I leave,
+ How wealth, or joy, or peace can be my lot;
+Ne'er yet my spirit found such cause to grieve
+ As now in leaving thee; and if thy thought
+Of me in absence should be sorrow-fraught,
+ Oft will my heart repentant turn to thee,
+Dwelling in fruitless wishes, on this spot,
+ And all the gracious words here said to me.
+
+O gracious God! to thee I bend my knee,
+ For thy sake yielding all I love and prize;
+And O, how mighty must that influence be,
+ That steals me thus from all my cherished joys!
+Here, ready, then, myself surrendering,
+ Prepared to serve thee, I submit; and ne'er
+To one so faithful could I service bring,
+  So kind a master, so beloved and dear.
+
+And strong my ties,--my grief unspeakable!
+ Grief, all my choicest treasures to resign;
+Yet stronger still the affections that impel
+ My heart toward Him, the God whose love is mine.
+That holy love, how beautiful! how strong!
+ Even wisdom's favorite sons take refuge there;
+'T is the redeeming gem that shines among
+  Men's darkest thoughts,--for ever bright and fair.
+
+--Tr. by Taylor.
+
+
+GACE BRULE. Thirteenth Century.
+
+ The birds, the birds of mine own land
+  I heard in Brittany;
+ And as they sung, they seemed to me
+ The very same I heard with thee.
+ And if it were indeed a dream,
+ Such thoughts they taught my soul to frame
+ That straight a plaintive number came,
+  Which still shall be my song,
+Till that reward is mine which love hath promised long.
+
+--Tr. by Taylor.
+
+
+RAOUL DE SOISSONS. Thirteenth Century.
+
+Ah! beauteous maid,
+  Of form so fair!
+Pearl of the world,
+  Beloved and dear!
+How does my spirit eager pine
+But once to press those lips of thine!--
+ Yes, beauteous maid,
+  Of form so fair!
+ Pearl of the world,
+  Beloved and dear!
+
+And if the theft
+ Thine ire awake,
+A hundred fold
+ I'd give it back,--
+Thou beauteous maid,
+ Of form so fair!
+Pearl of the world,
+ Beloved and dear!
+
+--Tr. by Taylor.
+
+
+LATER FRENCH LYRICS.
+
+During the latter half of the thirteenth century several new and
+highly artificial forms of verse were developed. The chief of
+these were the Ballade and Chant Royal, the Rondel, Roudeau,
+Triolet, Virelay. These are all alike in being short poems,
+generally treating of love, and making special use of a refrain
+and the repetition of words and lines. They differ in the number
+of verses in a stanza, of stanzas In the poem, and the order and
+number of rhymes. Their poetic value is not great because the
+poet so easily lost sight of his subject in perfecting his verse
+form.
+
+A TRIOLET.
+
+Take time while yet it is in view,
+ For fortune is a fickle fair:
+Days fade, and others spring anew;
+Then take the moment still in view.
+What boots to toil and cares pursue?
+ Each month a new moon hangs in air.
+Take, then, the moment still in view,
+ For fortune is a fickle fair.
+
+--Froissart. Tr. Anonymous.
+
+
+RONDEL.
+
+Now Time throws off his cloak again
+Of ermined frost, and cold and rain,
+And clothes him in the embroidery
+Of glittering sun and clear blue sky.
+With beast and bird the forest rings,
+Each in his jargon cries or sings;
+And Time throws off his cloak again
+Of ermined frost, and cold and rain.
+
+River, and fount, and tinkling brook
+ Wear in their dainty livery
+ Drops of silver jewelry;
+In new-made suit they merry look;
+And Time throws off his cloak again
+Of ermined frost, and cold and rain.
+
+--Charles d'Orleans. Tr. by Longfellow.
+
+
+THE BALLADE OF DEAD LADIES.
+
+Tell me now in what hidden way is
+ Lady Flora the lovely Roman?
+Where's Hipparchia, and where is Thais,
+ Neither of them the fairer woman?
+ Where is Echo, beheld of no man,
+Only heard on river and mere,--
+ She whose beauty was more than human? ....
+But where are the snows of yester-year?
+
+Where's Heloise, the learned nun,
+ For whose sake Abeillard, I ween,
+Lost manhood and put priesthood on?
+ (From love he won such dule and teen!)
+ And where, I pray you, is the Queen
+Who willed that Buridan should steer
+ Sewed in a sack's mouth down the Seine? ....
+But where are the snows of yester-year?
+
+White Queen Blanche, like a queen of lilies,
+ With a voice like any mermaiden,--
+Bertha Broadfoot, Beatrice, Alice,
+ And Ermengarde the lady of Maine,--
+ And that good Joan whom Englishmen
+At Rouen doomed and burned her there,--
+ Mother of God, where are they then? ....
+But where are the snows of yester-year?
+
+Nay, never ask this week, fair lord,
+ Where they are gone, nor yet this year,
+Save with thus much for an overword,--
+ But where are the snows of yester-year?
+
+--Villon. Tr. by D. G. Rossetti.
+
+
+LYRIC POETRY--PROVENCAL.
+
+Modern scholars separate the treatment of Provencal literature
+from that of French. It was written in a different dialect, was
+subject to somewhat different laws of development, and after a
+short period of activity died almost completely away.
+
+Provencal literature is that produced in ancient Provence or
+Southern France. Its period of life extended from the eleventh to
+the fifteenth centuries, its middle and only important period
+being that of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. This
+literature contains examples of all the varieties of French
+literature of the Middle Ages, but the only work that is original
+and important is its lyric poetry. This was composed by the
+troubadours (corresponding to the French trouveres) and sung by
+jongleurs or minstrels. The names of 460 Provencal poets and 251
+anonymous pieces have come down to us. The one great theme of
+troubadour-singing--one, too, upon which he was original and a
+master--was that of passionate love. With this as subject, these
+poets united an eagerness for form, and were the first to perfect
+verse in any modern language.
+
+
+PIERRE ROGIERS. Twelfth Century.
+
+Who has not looked upon her brow
+  Has never dreamed of perfect bliss,
+But once to see her is to know
+  What beauty, what perfection, is.
+
+Her charms are of the growth of heaven,
+  She decks the night with hues of day:
+Blest are the eyes to which 't is given
+  On her to gaze the soul away!
+
+--Tr. by Costello.
+
+
+GUILLEM DE CABESTANH. Twelfth Century.
+
+No, never since the fatal time
+When the world fell for woman's crime,
+  Has Heaven in tender mercy sent--
+All preordaining, all foreseeing--
+  A breath of purity that lent
+Existence to so fair a being!
+Whatever earth can boast of rare,
+Of precious, and of good,--
+Gaze on her form, 't is mingled there,
+With added grace endued.
+
+Why, why is she so much above
+  All others whom I might behold,
+Whom I, unblamed, might dare to love,
+  To whom my sorrows might be told?
+O, when I see her, passing fair,
+I feel how vain is all my care:
+I feel she all transcends my praise,
+I feel she must contemn my lays:
+I feel, alas! no claim have I
+To gain that bright divinity!
+Were she less lovely, less divine,
+Less passion and despair were mine.
+
+--Tr. by Costello.
+
+
+THE MONK OF MONTAUDON. Thirteenth Century.
+
+I love the court by wit and worth adorned,
+A man whose errors are abjured and mourned,
+My gentle mistress by a streamlet clear,
+Pleasure, a handsome present, and good cheer.
+
+I love fat salmon, richly dressed, at noon;
+I love a faithful friend both late and soon.
+
+I hate small gifts, a man that's poor and proud,
+The young who talk incessantly and loud;
+I hate in low-bred company to be,
+I hate a knight that has not courtesy.
+I hate a lord with arms to war unknown,
+I hate a priest or monk with beard o'ergrown;
+A doting husband, or a tradesman's son,
+Who apes a noble, and would pass for one.
+I hate much water and too little wine,
+A prosperous villain and a false divine;
+A niggard lout who sets the dice aside;
+A flirting girl all frippery and pride;
+A cloth too narrow, and a board too wide;
+Him who exalts his handmaid to his wife,
+And her who makes her groom her lord for life;
+The man who kills his horse with wanton speed,
+And him who fails his friend in time of need.
+
+--Tr. by Costello.
+
+
+PIERRE VIDAL. End Twelfth Century.
+
+Of all sweet birds, I love the most
+The lark and nightingale:
+For they the first of all awake,
+The opening spring with songs to hail.
+
+And I, like them, when silently
+Each Troubadour sleeps on,
+Will wake me up, and sing of love
+And thee, Vierna, fairest one!
+. . . .
+The rose on thee its bloom bestowed,
+The lily gave its white,
+And nature, when it planned thy form
+A model framed of fair and bright.
+
+For nothing, sure, that could be given,
+To thee hath been denied;
+That there each thought of love and joy
+In bright perfection might reside.
+
+--Tr. by Taylor.
+
+
+GUIRAUT DE BORNEILH. End Thirteenth Century.
+
+Companion dear! or sleeping or awaking,
+Sleep not again! for, lo! the morn is nigh,
+And in the east that early star is breaking,
+The day's forerunner, known unto mine eye.
+The morn, the morn is near.
+
+Companion dear! with carols sweet I'll call thee;
+Sleep not again! I hear the birds' blithe song
+Loud in the woodlands; evil may befall thee,
+And jealous eyes awaken, tarrying long,
+Now that the morn is near.
+
+Companion dear! forth from the window looking,
+Attentive mark the signs of yonder heaven;
+Judge if aright I read what they betoken:
+Thine all the loss, if vain the warning given.
+The morn, the morn is near.
+
+Companion dear! since thou from hence wert straying,
+Nor sleep nor rest these eyes have visited;
+My prayers unceasing to the Virgin paying,
+That thou in peace thy backward way might tread.
+The morn, the morn, is near.
+
+Companion dear! hence to the fields with me!
+Me thou forbad'st to slumber through the night,
+And I have watched that livelong night for thee;
+But thou in song or me hast no delight,
+And now the morn is near.
+
+ANSWER.
+
+Companion dear! so happily sojourning,
+So blest am I, I care not forth to speed:
+Here brightest beauty reigns, her smiles adorning
+Her dwelling-place,--then wherefore should I heed
+The morn or jealous eyes?
+
+--Tr. by Taylor.
+
+
+FABLES AND TALES.
+
+FABLES.
+
+A large and popular class of writing of the French Middle Ages
+was that of FABLIAUX or Fables. A Fable is "a recital, for the
+most part comic, of a real or possible event occurring in the
+ordinary affairs of human life."[1] We possess some two hundred
+of these fables, varying in length from twenty to five hundred
+lines. They are generally mocking, jocular, freespoken, half
+satirical stories of familiar people, and incidents in ordinary
+life. The follies of the clergy are especially exposed, though
+the peasants, knights, and even kings furnish frequent subjects.
+They are commonly very free and often licentious in language. The
+following is an example of the simpler kind of Fables.
+
+[1] Quoted by Saintsbury from M. de Montaiglon, editor of the
+latest collection of Fabliaux (Parts 1872-'88).
+
+
+THE PRIEST WHO ATE MULBERRIES.
+
+Ye lordlings all, come lend an ear;
+It boots ye naught to chafe or fleer,
+As overgrown with pride:
+Ye needs must hear Dan Guerin tell
+What once a certain priest befell,
+To market bent to ride.
+
+The morn began to shine so bright,
+When up this priest did leap full light
+And called his folk around:
+He bade them straight bring out his mare,
+For he would presently repair
+Unto the market-ground.
+
+So bent he was on timely speed,
+So pressing seemed his worldly need,
+He weened 't were little wrong
+If pater-nosters he delayed,
+And cast for once they should be said
+E'en as he rode along.
+
+And now with tower and turret near
+Behold the city's walls appear,
+When, as he turned aside,
+He chanced in evil hour to see
+All hard at hand a mulberry-tree
+That spread both far and wide.
+
+Its berries shone so glossy black,
+The priest his lips began to smack,
+Full fain to pluck the fruit;
+But, woe the while! the trunk was tall,
+And many a brier and thorn did crawl
+Around that mulberry's root.
+
+The man, howbe, might not forbear,
+But reckless all he pricked his mare
+In thickest of the brake;
+Then climbed his saddle-bow amain,
+And tiptoe 'gan to stretch and strain
+Some nether bough to take.
+A nether bough he raught at last;
+He with his right hand held it fast,
+And with his left him fed:
+His sturdy mare abode the shock,
+And bore, as steadfast as a rock,
+The struggling overhead.
+
+So feasted long the merry priest,
+Nor much bethought him of his beast
+Till hunger's rage was ended:
+Then, "Sooth!" quoth he, "whoe'er should cry,
+'What ho, fair sir!' in passing by,
+Would leave me here suspended."
+
+Alack! for dread of being hanged,
+With voice so piercing shrill he twanged
+The word of luckless sound,
+His beast sprang forward at the cry,
+And plumb the priest dropped down from high
+Into the brake profound.
+
+There, pricked and pierced with many a thorn,
+And girt with brier, and all forlorn,
+Naught boots him to complain:
+Well may ye ween how ill bested
+He rolled him on that restless bed,
+But rolled and roared in vain:
+
+For there algates he must abide
+The glowing noon, the eventide,
+The livelong night and all;
+The whiles with saddle swinging round,
+And bridle trailing on the ground,
+His mare bespoke his fall.
+
+O, then his household shrieked for dread,
+And weened at least he must be dead;
+His lady leman swooned:
+Eftsoons they hie them all to look
+If haply in some dell or nook
+His body might be found.
+
+Through all the day they sped their quest;
+The night fled on, they took no rest;
+Returns the morning hour:
+When, lo! at peeping of the dawn.
+It chanced a varlet boy was drawn
+Nigh to the mulberry-bower.
+
+The woful priest the help descried:
+"O, save my life! my life!" he cried,
+"Enthralled in den profound!
+O, pluck me out, for pity's sake,
+From this inextricable brake,
+Begirt with brambles round!"
+
+"Alas, my lord! my master dear!
+What ugly chance hath dropped thee here?"
+Exclaimed the varlet youth.
+"'T was gluttony"' the priest replied,
+With peerless folly by her side:
+But help me straight, for ruth!"
+
+By this were come the remnant rout;
+With passing toil they plucked him out,
+And slowly homeward led:
+But, all so tattered in his hide,
+Long is he fain in bed to bide,
+But little less than dead.
+
+--Tr. by Way.
+
+
+A special development of the fable is the mock-epic "Reynard the
+Fox", one of the most noteworthy developments in literature of
+the Middle Ages. It is an elaborate, semi-epic set of stories in
+which Reynard is the embodiment of cunning and discreet valor,
+while his great enemy, Isegrim, the wolf, represents stupid
+strength. From the beginning of this set of fables, there is a
+tone of satirical comment on men and their affairs. In the later
+developments of the story, elaborate allegories are introduced,
+and monotonous moralizings take the place of the earlier, simpler
+humor.
+
+The fable reached its greatest development in France, but all
+Europe shared in making and delighting in it.
+
+Our extracts are taken from Caxton's translation of the Flemish
+form of the legend.
+
+FROM REYNARD THE FOX.
+
+Part II. Chapter 33.
+
+REYNARD AND ERSWYNDE (THE WOLF'S WIFE) AT THE WELL.
+
+Then spoke Erswynde, the wolf's wife, "Ach! Fell Reynard, no man
+can keep himself from thee, thou canst so well utter thy words
+and thy falseness; but it shall be evil, rewarded in the end. How
+broughtest thou me once, into the well, where the two buckets
+hung by one cord running through one pulley which went one up and
+another down? Thou sattest in one bucket beneath in the pit in
+great dread. I came thither and heard thee sigh and make sorrow,
+and asked thee how thou camest there. Thou saidst that thou hadst
+there so many good fishes eaten out of the water that thy belly
+wouldst burst. I said, 'tell me how I shall come to thee.' Then
+saidst thou: 'Aunt, spring into that bucket that hangeth there,
+and thou shalt come anon to me.' I did so, and I went downward
+and ye came upward, and then I was all angry. Thou saidst, 'thus
+fareth the world, that one goeth up and another goeth down.' Then
+sprang ye forth and went your way, and I abode there alone,
+sitting an whole day, sore and hungry and acold. And thereto had
+I many a stroke ere I could get thence."  "Aunt," said the fox,
+"though the strokes did you harm, I had leifer ye had them than
+I, for ye may better bear them, for one of us must needs have had
+them. I taught you good; will you understand it and think on it,
+that ye another time take heed and believe no man over hastily,
+is he friend or cousin. For every man seeketh his own profit.
+They be now fools that do not so, and especially when they be in
+jeopardy of their lives."
+
+Part II. Chapter 35.
+
+HOW ISEGRYM PROFFERED HIS GLOVE TO THE FOX FOR TO FIGHT WITH HIM.
+
+The wolf said, "I may well forbear your mocks and your scorns,
+and also your fell, venomous words' strong thief that you are. Ye
+said that I was almost dead for hunger when ye helped me in my
+need. That is falsely lied; for it was but a bone that ye gave to
+me; ye had eaten away all the flesh that was thereon. And ye mock
+me and say that I am hungry here where I stand. That touched my
+worship too nigh. What many a spighty word have ye brought forth
+with false lesings.[1] And that I have conspired the king's
+death, for the treasure that you have said to him is in
+Hulsterlo. And ye have also my wife shamed and slandered that she
+shall never recover it. And I should ever be disworshipped
+thereby if I avenged it not. I have forborne you long, but now ye
+shall not escape me. I cannot make here of great proof, but I say
+here before my lord, and before all them that been here, that
+thou art a false traitor and a murderer, and that I shall prove
+and make good on thy body within lists in the field, and that,
+body against body. And then shall our strife have an end. And
+thereto I cast to thee my glove, and take thou it up. I shall
+have right of thee or die therefor.
+
+[1] Lyings.
+
+
+Reynard the Fox thought, "how came I on this company? We been not
+both alike.[1] I shall not well con[2] stand against this strong
+thief. All my proof is now come to an end."
+
+[1] Of equal strength. [2] Know how to.
+
+
+Yet, thought the fox, "I have good advantage. The claws of his
+fore feet been off and his feet been yet sore thereof, when for
+my sake he was unshod. He shall be somewhat the weaker."
+
+Then said the fox, "who that sayeth that I am a traitor or a
+murderer? I say he lieth falsely, and that art thou especially
+Isegrym. Thou bringest me there as I would be. This have I oft
+desired. Lo! there is my pledge that all thy words been false and
+that I shall defend me and make good that thou liest.
+
+The king received the pledges and amitted[1] the battle, and
+asked borrows[2] of them both, that on the morn they should come
+and perform their battle and do as they ought to do. Then the
+Bear and the Cat were borrows for the wolf, and for the Fox were
+borrows Grymbert,[3] the dasse,[4] and Bytelnys.[5]
+
+[1] Admitted. [2] Pledges. [3] The badger. [4] A small fox. [5]
+The elder daughter of the apes.
+
+
+TALES.
+
+French mediaeval literature includes many tales less elaborate in
+form and less "heroic" in subject than the epics and romances and
+without the satire and humor of the fables. The best of them are
+the love stories, and of these the most beautiful is "Aucassin
+and Nicolette", by an unknown trouvere of the thirteenth century.
+It is an alternation of prose narrative and dainty narrative
+lyrics. The story is that of two lovers parted temporarily by the
+pride and cruelty of the youth's father. But, remaining true to
+each other, they are, after many vicissitudes, happily united.
+Our extracts are from Bourdillon's beautiful translation.
+
+FROM AUCASSIN AND NICOLETTE.
+
+Sec. 1.--
+Who were fain good verse to hear,
+Of the aged captives' cheer,
+Of two children fair and feat,
+Aucassin and Nicolette,--
+What great sorrows suffered he,
+And what deeds did valiantly
+For his love, so bright of blee?
+Sweet the song, and fair the say,
+Dainty and of deft array.
+So astonied wight is none,
+Nor so doleful nor undone,
+None that doth so sorely ail,
+If he hear, shall not be hale,
+And made glad again for bliss,
+So sweet it is!
+
+The hero refuses to become a knight and go to war unless his
+father will give him Nicolette for wife.
+
+Sec. 8.--
+Aucassin was of Beaucaire,
+And abode in castle fair.
+None can move him to forget
+Dainty-fashioned Nicolette
+Whom his sire to him denies;
+And his mother sternly cries:
+"Out on thee! what wilt thou, loon?
+Nicolette is blithe and boon?
+Castaway from Carthage she!
+Bought of Paynim compayne!
+If with woman thou wilt mate,
+Take thee wife of high estate!"
+"Mother, I can else do ne'er!
+Nicolette is debonair;
+Her lithe form, her face, her bloom,
+Do the heart of me illume.
+Fairly mine her love may be
+So sweet is she!"
+
+This the father refuses to do, and has Nicolette shut up in a
+tower. But the son stubbornly persists. At last it is agreed that
+if Aucassin returns from fighting he may see and kiss his lover.
+
+Sec. 9.--
+Aucassin heard of the kiss
+Which on return shall be his.
+Had one given him of pure gold
+Marks a hundred thousand told,
+Not so blithe of hear he were.
+Rich array he bade them bear:
+They made ready for his wear.
+He put on a hauberk lined,
+Helmet on his head did bind,
+Girt his sword with hilt pure gold,
+Mounted on his charger bold;
+Spear and buckler then he took;
+At his two feet cast a look:
+They trod in the stirrups trim.
+Wondrous proud he carried him
+His dear love he thought upon,
+And his good horse spurred anon,
+Who right eagerly went on.
+Through the gate he rode straightway,
+Into the fray.
+
+Aucassin was greatly successful, but on his return his father
+would not keep his promise, and shut him up in prison.
+
+Sec. 12.--
+Aucassin was put in prison, as you have listened and heard, and
+Nicolette on the other hand, was in the chamber. It was in the
+summer-time, in the month of May, when the days are warm, long,
+and bright, and the nights still and cloudless. Nicolette lay one
+night on her bed and saw the moon shine bright through a window,
+and heard the nightingale sing in the garden, and then she
+bethought her of Aucassin, her friend, whom she loved so much.
+She began to consider of the Count Garin of Beaucaire, who hated
+her to death; and she thought to herself that she would remain
+there no longer; since if she were betrayed, and the Count Garin
+knew it, he would make her to die an evil death. She perceived
+that the old woman who was with her was asleep. She got up, and
+put on a gown which she had, of cloth-of-silk and very good; and
+she took bedclothes and towels, and tied one to another, and made
+a rope as long as she could, and tied it to the pillar of the
+window, and let herself down into the garden; and she took her
+dress in one hand before and in the other behind, and tucked it
+up, because of the dew which she saw thick on the grass, and she
+went away down in the garden.
+
+Her hair was golden and in little curls, and her eyes blue-gray
+and laughing, and- her face oval, and her nose high and well set,
+and her lips vermeil, so as is no rose nor cherry in summertime,
+and her teeth white and small, and her bosom was firm, and heaved
+her dress as if it had been two walnuts; and atween the sides she
+was so slender that you could have clasped her in your two hands;
+and the daisy blossoms which she broke off with the toes of her
+feet, which lay fallen over on the bend of her foot, were right
+black against her feet and her legs, so very white was the
+maiden.
+
+She came to the postern door, and unfastened it, and went out
+through the streets of Beaucaire, keeping in the shadow, for the
+moon shone very bright; and she went on till she came to the
+tower where her lover was. The tower was shored up here and
+there, and she crouched down by one of the pillars, and wrapped
+herself in her mantle; and she thrust her head into a chink in
+the tower, which was old and ruinous, and heard Aucassin within
+weeping and making great ado, and lamenting for his sweet friend
+whom he loved so much. And when she had listened enough to him
+she began to speak.
+
+After telling each their love, Nicolette was obliged to flee. She
+went to a great forest and talked with the herd-boys.
+
+Sec. 19.--
+Nicolette, bright-favored maid,
+To the herds her farewell bade,
+And her journey straight addressed
+Right amid the green forest,
+Down a path of olden day;
+Till she reached an open way
+Where seven roads fork, that go out
+Through the region round about.
+Then the thought within her grew,
+She will try her lover true,
+If he love her as he said:
+She took many a lily head,
+With the bushy kermes-oak shoot,
+And of leafy boughs to boot,
+And a bower so fair made she,--
+Daintier I did never see!
+By the ruth of heaven she sware,
+Should Aucassin come by there,
+And not rest a little space,
+For her love's sake' in that place,
+He should ne'er her lover be,
+Nor his love she.
+
+Aucassin escapes, comes to the forest, finds his lover, and they
+agree to go away together.
+
+Sec. 27--
+Aucassin, the fair, the blond,
+Gentle knight and lover fond,
+Rode from out the thick forest;
+In his arms his love was pressed,
+On the saddlebow before;
+And he kissed her o'er and o'er,
+Eyes and brows and lips and chin.
+Then to him did she begin;
+
+"Aucassin, fair lover sweet,
+To what country shall we fleet?
+"Sweet my love, what should I know?
+Little care I where we go,
+In the greenwood or away,
+So I am with thee alway."
+Hill and vale they fleeted by,
+Town and fortress fenced high,
+Till they came at dawn of day
+Where the sea before them lay;
+There they lighted on the sand,
+Beside the strand.
+
+They have many adventures and are again separated. Nicolette is
+carried to Carthage. She finally escapes and makes her way in
+disguise to Beaucaire where Aucassin was.
+
+Sec. 39.--
+Aucassin was at Beaucaire
+'Neath the tower a morning fair.
+On a stair he sat without,
+With his brave lords round about:
+Saw the leaves and flowers spring,
+Heard the song-birds carolling;
+Of his love he thought anew,
+Nicolette the maiden true,
+Whom he loved so long a day;
+Then his tears and sighs had way.
+When, behold before the stair,
+Nicolette herself stood there,
+Lifted viol, lifted bow,
+Then she told her story so:
+"Listen, lordlings brave, to me,
+Ye that low or lofty be!
+Liketh you to hear a stave,
+All of Aucassin the brave,
+And of Nicolette the true?
+Long they loved and long did rue,
+Till into the deep forest
+After her he went in quest.
+From the tower of Torelore
+Them one day the Paynim bore,
+And of him I know no more.
+But true-hearted Nicolette
+Is in Carthage castle yet;
+To her sire so dear is she,
+Who is king of that countrie.
+Fain they would to her award
+Felon king to be her lord.
+Nicolette will no Paynim,
+For she loves a lording slim,
+Aucassin the name of him.
+By the holy name she vows
+That no lord will she espouse,
+Save she have her love once moe
+She longs for so!"
+
+She is at last revealed to him, and all ends happily.
+
+Sec. 41.--
+Now when Aucassin did hear
+Of his own bright favored fere,
+That she had arrived his shore,
+Glad he was as ne'er before.
+Forth with that fair dame he made
+Nor until the hostel stayed.
+Quickly to the room they win,
+Where sat Nicolette within.
+When she saw her love once more,
+Glad she was as ne'er before.
+Up she sprang upon her feet,
+And went forward him to meet.
+Soon as Aucassin beheld,
+Both his arms to her he held,
+Gently took her to his breast,
+All her face and eyes caressed.
+Long they lingered side by side;
+And the next day by noontide Aucassin her lord became;
+Of Beaucaire he made her Dame.
+After lived they many days,
+And in pleasure went their ways.
+Now has Aucassin his bliss,
+Likewise Nicolette ywis.
+Ends our song and story so;
+No more I know.
+
+DIDACTIC LITERATURE.
+
+France produced, along with its heroic poetry, its romances,
+tales, and lyrics, much serious and allegorical work. This was in
+the shape of homilies, didactic poems, and long allegories
+touching manners and morals. Of these last the most famous and
+important is "The Romance of the Rose". It was the most popular
+book of the Middle Ages in France. It was begun by William of
+Lorris about 1240, the first draft extending to 4670 lines. Some
+forty years later, Jean de Meung, or Clapinel, wrote a
+continuation extending the poem to 22,817 lines. The general
+story is of a visit to a garden of delights, on the outside of
+which are all unlovely things. Within the garden the personages
+and action are allegories of the art of love. Here are Leisure,
+Enjoyment, Courtesy, the God of Love himself, love in the form of
+a beautiful Rose, Gracious Reception, Guardianship, Coyness, and
+Reason. Our extracts are taken from the translation into English
+attributed--it now seems with great probability--to Chaucer.
+
+NOTE.--These extracts from Chaucer's translation are not
+re-translated nor adapted. Chaucer's words are retained in every
+case. Their spelling is modernized. In those cases in which they
+needed for the rhythm, certain inflectional endings, e, en, es,
+are retained and are printed in parentheses. The reader has only
+to remember that he must pronounce every syllable needed to make
+the lines rhythmical. In only four cases has the rhyme been
+affected by the changed spelling. For defense of this modern
+spelling of Chaucer, the reader is referred to Lounsbury's
+"Studies in Chaucer," Vol. III., pp. 264-279.
+
+Ll. 49-91.--
+That it was May me thought(e) tho[1]
+It is five year or more ago;
+That it was May, thus dreamed me,
+In time of love and jollity.
+That all thing 'ginneth waxen gay,
+For there is neither busk nor hay[2]
+In May, that it nill[3] shrouded been
+And [4] it with new(e) leaves wrene[5]
+These wood(e)s eek recover green,
+That dry in winter been to seen;[6]
+And the earth waxeth proud withal
+For sweet dews that on it fall.
+And the poor estate forget
+In which that winter had it set.
+And then becometh the ground so proud,
+That it will have a new(e) shroud,
+And maketh so quaint his robe and fair
+That it had hews an hundred pair,
+Of grass and flowers, inde and perse[7]
+And many hew(e)s full diverse:
+That is the robe, I mean, ivis,[8]
+Through which the ground to praise(n)[9] is.
+The birds that have(n) left their song,
+While they have suffered cold so strong,
+In weathers grill [10] and dark to sight,
+Ben [11] in May for [12] the sun(en) bright
+So glad(e), that they show in singing
+That in (t)heir hearts is such liking,[13]
+That they mote [14] sing(en) and be light.
+Then doth the nightingale her might
+To make noise and sing(en) blithe,
+Then is bussful many sithe,[15]
+The calandra [16] and the popinjay.[17]
+Then young(e) folk entend(en)[18] aye
+For to be gay and amorous,
+The time is then so favorous.[19]
+  Hard is the heart that loveth nought,
+In May when all this mirth is wrought:
+When he may on these branches hear
+The small(e) bird(e)s sing(en) clear
+(T)heir blissful' sweet song piteous,
+And in this season delightous[20]
+When love affrayeth[21] all(e) thing.
+
+[1] Then. [2] Bush nor hedge. [3] Will not. [4] As if. [5] Were
+covered. [6] Are to be seen. [7] Azure and sky-colored. [8]
+Certainly. [9] To be praised. [10] Severe. [11] Are. [12] On
+account of. [13] Good bodily condition. [14] Must. [15] Times.
+[16] A kind of lark. [17] Parrot. [18] Attend. [19] Favorable.
+[20] Delightful. [21] Moveth.
+
+
+The poet sees in vision the Garden of Love. He knocks at "a wiket
+smalle," which was finally opened by a maiden.
+
+Ll. 539.--
+Her hair was as yellow of hew
+As any basin scoured new,
+Her flesh tender as is a chick,
+With bent brow(e)s, smooth and sleek;
+And by measure large were,
+The opening of her eyen [1]clere,
+Her nose of good proportion,
+Her eyen [1] gray as is a falcon,
+With sweet(e) breath and well savored,
+Her face white and well colored,
+With little mouth and round to see;
+A clove[2] chin eek had(de) she.
+Her neek(e) was of good fashion[3]
+In length and greatness by reason,[4]
+Without(e) blain(e),[5] scab or roigne.[6]
+From Jerusalem unto Burgoyne,
+There nys [7] a fairer neck, iwis,[8]
+To feel how smooth and soft it is.
+Her throat also white of hew
+As snow on branch(e) snowed new.
+Of body full well wrought was she;
+Men needed not in no country
+A fairer body for to seek,
+And of fine orphreys [9] had she eek
+A chap(e)let; so seemly one,
+Ne[10] I werede never maid upon,
+And fair above that chap(e)let
+A rose garland had she set.
+She had a gay mirror,
+And with a rich(e) gold treasure
+Her head was tressed [11] quaint(e)ly;
+Her sleeves sewed fetisely,[12]
+And for to keep her hand(e)s fair
+Of gloves white she had a pair.
+And she had on a coat of green,
+Of cloth of Gaunt; without(e) ween[13]
+Well seemed by her apparel
+She was not wont to great travail,
+For when she kempto was fetisely[14]
+And well arrayed and rich(e)ly
+Then had she done all her journey;
+For merry and well begun was she.
+She had a lusty[15] life in May,
+She had no thought by night nor day,
+Of no thing but if it were only
+To graith[16] her well and uncouthly.[17]
+When that this door had opened me
+This May, seemly for to see,
+I thanked her as I best might,
+And asked her how that she hight[18]
+And what she was' I asked eek.
+And she to me was nought unmeek [19]
+Ne of her answer dangerous [20]
+But fair answered and said(e) thus:
+"Lo, sir, my name is Idleness;
+So clepe[21] men me, more and less."
+Full mighty and full rich am I,
+And that of one thing, namely,"
+For I entend(e)[28] to no thing
+But to my joy, and my playing,
+And for to kemb[29] and tress(e)[30] me.
+Acquainted am I and privy
+With Mirth(e), lord of this garden,
+That from the land of Alexander
+Made the trees hither be fet[31]
+That in this garden be i-set.
+And when the trees were waxen on height[32]
+This wall, that stands here in thy sight,
+Did Mirth enclose(n) all about;
+And these images[33] all without
+He did 'em both entail[43] and paint.
+That neither be joly,[35] nor quaint,[36]
+But they be full of sorrow and woe
+As thou hast seen a while ago.
+  "And oft(e) time him to solace,
+Sir Mirth(e) cometh into this place
+And eek with him cometh his meiny[37]
+That live in lust[38] and jollity,
+And now is Mirth therein to hear
+The bird(e)s, how they sing(en) clear
+The mavis and the nightingale,
+And other jolly bird(e)s small,
+And thus he walketh to solace
+Him and his folk; for sweeter place
+To play(en) in he may not find,
+Although he sought one in till[39] Inde.[40]
+The alther fairest[41] folk to see
+That in this world may found(e) be
+Hath Mirth(e) with him in his rout,
+That follow him always about.
+. . . . .
+And forth without(e) word(e)s mo,[42]
+In at that wicket went I tho,[43]
+That idleness had opened me,
+Into that garden fair to see.
+
+[1] Eyes. [2] Dimpled. [3] Form. [4] Proportion. [5] Pustule. [6]
+Pimple. [7] Is not. [8] Certainly. [9] Fringe of gold. [10] Not.
+[11] Wore. [12] Plaited. [13] Neatly. [14] Doubt. [15] Combed,
+ironed. [16] Day's work. [17] In fine form. [18] Pleasant. [19]
+Dress. [20] Unusually, elegantly. [21] Was called. [22] Bold.
+[23] Sparing. [24] Name. [25] Great and small. [26] Chiefly. [27]
+Attend. [29] Comb. [30] Plait. [31] Fetched.  [32] Were grown to
+a height. [33] The pictures on the outside of the wall. [34]
+Scarve.[35] Joyful, pleasant. [36] Unusual, queer. [37] Retinue.
+[38] Pleasure. [39] To. [40] India. [41] Fairest of all. [42]
+More. [43] Then.
+
+
+After wandering about the garden hearing the birds and getting
+acquainted with the inhabitants, he saw
+
+Among a thousand thing(e)s mo[1]
+A roser [2] charged full of roses,
+That with an hedge about enclosed is.
+Tho[3] had I such lust[4] and envy,
+That for Paris nor for Pavie,
+Nolde[5]I have left to go at see
+There greatest heap of roses be.
+  When I was with this rage hent[6]
+That caught hath many a man and shent[7]
+Toward the roser I gan go.
+And when I was not far therefro,[8]
+The savor of the roses sweet
+Me smote right to the heart(e) root
+As I had all embalmed be.
+And if I had ne[9] endoubted[10] me
+To have been hated or assailed,
+Me thank(e)s[11] would I not been failed
+To pull a rose of all that rout,[12]
+To bear(en) in my hand about
+And smell(en) to it where I went;
+But ever I dreaded me to repent,
+And lest it grieved or forthought[13]
+The lord that thilke[14] garden wrought,
+Of roses there were great(e) wone,[15]
+So fair(e) waxe [16] never in Rone.[17]
+  Of knop(e)s[18] close,[19] some saw I there
+And some well better waxen[20] were,
+And some there be of other moison[21]
+That drew(e) nigh to their season,
+And sped 'em fast(e) for to spread;
+I love well such roses red;
+For broad[22] roses, and open also,
+Be passed in a day or two;
+But knop(e)s[18] will(e) fresh(e) be
+Two day(e)s at the least, or three,
+The knop(e)s greatly liked[23]me,
+For fairer may there no man see
+Whoso might have one of all
+It aught him be full lief[24]withall.
+Might I one garland of 'em get
+For no riches I would it let.[25]
+Among the knop(e)s I chose one
+So fair, that of the remnant none
+Ne prize I half so well as it,
+When I avise[26] it is my wit.
+In it so well was enlumined
+With color red, as well y-fined[27]
+As nature couthe[28]it make fair.
+And it had leaves well four pair,
+That Kynde[29] hath set through his knowing
+About the red roses springing.
+The stalk(e) was as rush(e) right
+And thereon stood the knop upright,
+That it ne bowed upon no side,
+The sweet(e) smell(e) sprang so wide
+That it did[30] all the place about.
+When I had smelled the savor sweet
+No will had I from thence yet go
+But somedeal[31] nearer it went I tho[32]
+To take it: but mine hand for dread
+Ne durst I to the rose bede[33]
+For thistles sharp of many manners,
+Nettles, thornes, and hooked briers;
+For mickle they disturbed me,
+For sore I dreaded to harmed be.
+
+[1] More. [2] Rose-bush. [3] Then. [4] Desire. [5] Would not. [6]
+Seized. [7] Ruined. [8] There from. [9] Not. [10] Feared. [11]
+Willingly. [12] Company. [13] Caused to repent. [14] That. [15]
+Quantity. [16] Waxed, grew. [17] Provence. [18] Buds. [19]
+Closed. [20] Much better grown. [21] Harvest. [22] Blown. [23]
+Pleased. [24] Pleasing. [25] Let go. [26] Consider.[27] Polished.
+[28] Knew how. [29] Nature. [30] Filled. [31] Somewhat. [32]
+Then. [33] Offer.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.  SPANISH LITERATURE.
+
+The golden age of Spanish literature embraces the sixteenth and
+seventeenth centuries; but the twelfth and thirteenth centuries
+were, in Spain as in other European countries, a period of
+special literary activity. The impulses at work were the same as
+those to be noted in contemporary France, England, and Germany,
+and the work produced of the same general types. The chief phases
+of  Spanish mediaeval literature are these:
+
+1. Epic and heroic poetry. Here, as elsewhere, heroic ballads
+grew up about the national heroes. These were gradually fused
+into long epic poems by the wandering minstrels. The best of
+these Chansons de Geste are (1) "The Poem of the Cid", (2)
+"Rhymed Chronicle of the Cid". Both of them belong probably to
+the twelfth century.
+
+2. Romances. Many romances, or short semi-epic poems, grew up
+about the Cid. Of others, some were of the Carlovingian cycle,
+the most famous being that concerning Bernardo del Carpio, the
+traditional rival and conqueror of Roland. Some were devoted to
+the  Arthurian legend. This latter cycle of stories was immensely
+popular in Spain, though rather in translation and imitation than
+in original works. In the fourteenth century these older romances
+were technically called "books of chivalry" and their popularity
+and influence was widespread.
+
+3. Lyric poetry. There seems to have been no special development
+of lyric poetry early in Spain, such as is found in France. The
+earliest noteworthy lyric poet is Juan Ruiz (1300-1350).
+
+4. Didactic literature. As early as the first half of the
+thirteenth century, we have in Spain a strong didactic
+literature. Gonzalo de Berceo (d. 1268) wrote many lives of the
+saints, miracles, hymns to the Virgin, and other devotional
+pieces. But the impulse to allegorizing does not seem to come to
+Spain till much later.
+
+5. Fables and tales. Though a little later in being developed in
+Spain than in France, the same delight was taken in fables and
+short tales. About the middle of the fourteenth century, Juan
+Manul (d. 1349) made, in his "El Conde Lucanor", a large
+collection of these tales.
+
+6. Chronicles.  Spain had early an excellent school of
+chroniclers. An example of their work is The General Chronicle of
+Spain, compiled under Alphonso the Wise (d. 1284).
+
+
+ANCIENT BALLADS.
+
+Romantic ballads grew up in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries
+in Spain, centering chiefly about the national hero, Rodrigo Diaz
+de Bivar, who was called THE CID, some account of whom is
+necessary in order to an understanding of the poems.
+
+History--Rodrigo Diaz de Bivar, born 1030-40, died 1099, was the
+foremost warrior of the great struggle between the Christians and
+the Moors in Spain. The Moors called him the CID (Seid, the
+Lord), and the Champion (El Campeador). He was a vigorous,
+unscrupulous fighter, now on one side, now on the other. He was
+at one time entrusted with high embassies of state, at others, a
+rebel. His true place in history seems to be that of a great
+freebooter and guerrilla. His contemporary fame was really great.
+
+Legend--During the lifetime of the CID many marvels and myths
+grew up about him, and within the next century they became almost
+numberless. He became the hero of poet and of romancer to the
+Spanish people. His story was told everywhere by the wandering
+minstrels, and his name became the center of all popular
+romances.
+
+Literature.--At once, then, a large literature sprang up
+concerning the CID--ballads, romances, and incipient dramas. The
+chief pieces are (1)"The Ballads of the Cid", composed from the
+twelfth to the fifteenth century, of which nearly two hundred
+survive; (2)"The Poem of the Cid", a noble fragment; (3)"The
+Chronicle of the Cid".
+
+The early history of Spain's popular hero is traced very
+accurately in (1)"The General Chronicle of Spain", compiled under
+Alphonso X. (died 1284); (2)"The Chronicle of the Cid", perhaps
+extracts from the first, and (3) Various Poems and Romances of
+the CID from the thirteenth to the fifteenth century.
+
+The following give some of his adventures, and show the spirit of
+this interesting early literature--the earliest ballad literature
+in Europe.
+
+
+From the Cid Ballads.
+
+CUYDANDO DIEGO LAYNEZ. (THE TEST.)
+
+Brooding sat Diego Laynez o'er the insult to his name,
+Nobler and more ancient far than Inigo Abarca's fame;
+For he felt that strength was wanting to avenge the craven blow,
+If he himself at such an age to fight should think to go.
+Sleepless he passed the weary nights, his food untasted lay,
+Ne'er raised his eyes from off the ground, nor ventured forth to
+stray,
+Refused all converse with his friends, impelled by mortal fear,
+Lest fame of outrage unatoned should aggravate his care.
+While pondering thus his honor's claims in search of just
+redress,
+He thought of an expedient his failing house to test;
+So summoning to his side his sons, excused all explanation,
+Silent began to clutch their hands in proper alternation,
+(Not by their tender palms to trace the chiromantic linings,
+For at that day no place was found in Spain for such divinings),
+But calling on his honor spent for strength and self-denial,
+He set aside parental love and steeled his nerves to trial,
+Griping their hands with all his might till each cried: "Hold,
+Sir, hold!
+What meaneth this? pray, let me go; thou'rt killing me, behold!"
+Now when he came to Roderick, the youngest of them all,
+Despair had well-nigh banished hope of cherished fruit withal
+(Though ofttimes lingering nearest when farthest thought to be);
+The young man's eyes flashed fury, like tiger fierce stood he
+And cried: "Hold, father, hold, a curse upon ye, stay!
+An ye were not my father, I would not stop to pray,
+But by this good right arm of mine would straight pluck out your
+life
+With a bare digit of my hand, in lieu of vulgar knife!
+The old man wept for joy: "Son of my soul," quoth he,
+"Thy rage my rage disarmeth, thine ire is good to see;
+Prove now thy mettle, Rod'rick; wipe out my grievous stain,
+Restore the honor I have lost, unless thou it regain--"
+Then quickly told him of the wrong to which he was a prey,
+Gave him his blessing and a sword and bade him go his way
+To end the Count's existence and begin a brighter day.
+
+--Tr. by Knapp.
+
+
+PENSATIVO ESTAVA EL CID.  (THE SOLILOQUY.)
+Pensive stood the young Castilian, musing calmly on his plight;
+'Gainst a man like Count Lozano to avenge a father's slight!
+Thought of all the trained dependents that his foe could quickly
+call,
+A thousand brave Asturians scattered through the highlands all;
+Thought, too, how at the Cortes of Leon his voice prevailed,
+And how in border forays the Moor before him quailed;
+At last reviewed the grievance--No sacrifice too great
+To vindicate the first affront to Layn Calvo's state;
+Then calls on Heaven for justice, and on the earth for space,
+Craves strength of honor injured, and of his father grace,
+Nor heeds his youthful bearing, for men of rank like he
+Are wont from birth to prove their worth by deeds of chivalry.
+
+Next from the wainscot took he down an ancient sword and long:
+Once it had been Mudarra's, but now had rusty grown,
+And, holding it sufficient to achieve the end he sought,
+Before he girt it on him, he addressed the fitting thought:
+"Consider, valiant claymore, that Mudarrals arm is mine,
+And the cause wherein ye wrestle is Mudarra's cause and thine;
+But if, forsooth, thou scornest to be grasped by youthful hand,
+Think not 'twill lead thee backward e'en a jot from the demand;
+For as firm as thine own steel thou wilt find me in the fray,
+And as good as e'er the best man--Thou hast gained a lord to-day;
+And if perchance they worst thee, enraged at such a stain,
+I shall plunge thee to the cross in my breast for very shame.
+Then on to the field away, for the hour to fight is come,
+To requite on Count Lozano all the mischief he has done."
+So, full of courage and emprise the Cid rode forth to war,
+And his triumph was accomplished in the space of one short hour.
+
+--Tr. by KNAPP.
+
+
+NON ES DE SESSUDOS HOMES. (ON THE FIELD).
+
+"It is not meet for men of brain, nor yet for champion true,
+To offer insult to a man of better blood than you!
+The brawny warrior, howe'er fierce and valiant he may be,
+Was never wont to test his power on aged infirmity.
+The men of Leon need not boast of high emprise, forsooth,
+Who craven smite the face of age, and not the breast of youth.
+Ye should have known who was my sire, and Layn Calvo's line,
+A breed that never brook offence, nor challenge fit decline;
+How dared ye thus provoke a man whom only Heaven may,
+And not another' while the son lives to avenge the day!
+Ye cast about his noble face dishonor's sombre pall,
+But I am here to strip it off and expiate it all;
+For only blood will cleanse the stain attainted honor brings,
+And valid blood is that alone which from the aggressor springs;
+Yours it must be, Oh tyrant, since by its overplay
+It moved ye to so foul a deed and robbed your sense away;
+On my father ye laid hand, in the presence of the king,
+And I, his son, am here to-day atonement fall to bring.
+Count, ye did a craven business and I call ye COWARD here!
+Behold, if I await you, think not I come with fear,
+For Diego Laynez wrought me well set in his own mould,
+And while I prove my birthright I your baseness shall unfold.
+Your valor as a crafty blade will not avail ye more,
+For to my needs I bring a sword and charger trained to war."
+Thus spake to Count Lozano Spain's champion, the Cid,
+(Ere long he won the title by achievements which he did)
+That day he slew his enemy and severing quick the head,
+Bore high the bleeding trophy as he homeward proudly sped.
+
+--Tr. by Knapp.
+
+
+LLORANDO DIEGO LAYNEZ. (THE TRIUMPH.)
+
+Weeping sat Diego Laynez still o'er his untasted meal;
+Still o'er his shame was brooding, the tears his thoughts reveal;
+Beset with a thousand fancies, and crazed with honest care,
+Sensitive to a footfall lest some foe were lurking there,
+When Rod'rick, bearing by the locks the Count's dissevered poll,
+Tracking the floor with recent gore, advanced along the hall.
+He touched his father's shoulder and roused him from his dream,
+And proudly flaunting his revenge he thus addresses him:
+"Behold the evil tares, sir, that ye may taste the wheat;
+Open thine eyes, my father, and lift thy head, 'tis meet,
+For this thine honor is secure, is raised to life once more,
+And all the stain is washed away in spite of pride and power:
+For here are hands that are not hands, this tongue no tongue is
+now,
+I have avenged thee, sir, behold, and here the truth avow."
+The old man thinks he dreams; but no, no dream is there;
+'Twas only his long grieving that had filled his heart with care.
+At length he lifts his eyes, spent by chivalrous deeds,
+And turns them on his enemy clad in the ghastly weeds:
+"Roderick, son of my soul, mantle the spectre anon,
+Lest, like a new Medusa, it change my heart to stone,
+And leave me in such plight at last, that, ere I wish ye joy,
+My heart should rend within me of bliss without alloy.
+Oh, infamous Lozano! kind heaven hath wrought redress,
+And the great justice of my claim hath fired Rodrigo's breast!
+Sit down, my son, and dine, here at the head with me,
+For he who bringest such a gift, is head of my family."
+
+--Tr. by Knapp.
+
+
+THE YOUNG CID.
+
+Now rides Diego Laynez, to kiss the good King's hand,
+Three hundred men of gentry go with him from his land,
+Among them, young Rodrigo, the proud Knight of Bivar;
+The rest on mules are mounted, he on his horse of war.
+
+They ride in glittering gowns of soye--He harnessed like a lord;
+There is no gold about the boy, but the crosslet of his sword;
+The rest have gloves of sweet perfume,--He gauntlets strong of
+mail;
+They broidered cap and flaunting plume,--He crest untaught to
+quail.
+
+All talking with each other thus along their way they passed,
+But now they've come to Burgos, and met the King at last;
+When they came near his nobles, a whisper through them ran,--
+"He rides amidst the gentry that slew the Count Lozan."
+
+With very haughty gesture Rodrigo reined his horse,
+Right scornfully he shouted, when he heard them so discourse,
+"If any of his kinsmen or vassals dare appear,
+The man to give them answer, on horse or foot, is here."--
+
+"The devil ask the question," thus muttered all the band;--
+With that they all alighted, to kiss the good King's hand,--
+All but the proud Rodrigo, he in his saddle stayed,--
+Then turned to him his father (you may hear the words he said).
+
+"Now, light, my son, I pray thee, and kiss the good King's hand,
+He is our lord, Rodrigo; we hold of him our land."--
+But when Rodrigo heard him, he looked in sulky sort,
+I wot the words he answered they were both cold and short.
+
+"Had any other said it, his pains had well been paid,
+But thou, sir, art my father, thy word must be obeyed."--
+With that he sprung down lightly, before the King to kneel,
+But as the knee was bending, out leapt his blade of steel.
+
+The King drew back in terror, when he saw the sword was bare;
+"Stand back, stand back, Rodrigo, in the devil's name beware;
+Your looks bespeak a creature of father Adam's mould,
+But in your wild behaviour you're like some lion bold."
+
+When Rodrigo heard him say so, he leapt into his seat,
+And thence he made his answer, with visage nothing sweet,--
+"I'd think it little honour to kiss a kingly palm,
+And if my father's kissed it, thereof ashamed I am."--
+
+When he these words had uttered, he turned him from the gate.
+His true three hundred gentles behind him followed straight;
+If with good gowns they came that day, with better arms they
+went;
+And if their mules behind did stay, with horses they're content.
+
+--Tr. by Lockhart.
+
+
+THE CID'S COURTSHIP.
+
+Now, of Rodrigo de Bivar great was the fame that run,
+How he five Kings had vanquished, proud Moormen every one;
+And how, when they consented to hold of him their ground,
+He freed them from the prison wherein they had been bound.
+
+To the good King Fernando, in Burgos where he lay,
+Came then Ximena Gomez, and thus to him did say:--
+"I am Don Gomez, daughter, in Gormaz Count was he;
+Him slew Rodrigo of Bivar in battle valiantly.
+
+"Now am I come before you, this day a boon to crave,
+And it is that I to husband may this Rodrigo have;
+Grant this, and I shall hold me a happy damosell,
+Much honoured shall I hold me, I shall be married well.
+
+"I know he's born for thriving, none like him in the land;
+I know that none in battle against his spear may stand;
+Forgiveness is well pleasing in God our Saviour's view,
+And I forgive him freely, for that my sire he slew."--
+
+Right pleasing to Fernando was the thing she did propose;
+He writes his letter swiftly, and forth his foot-page goes;
+I wot, when young Rodrigo saw how the King did write,
+He leapt on Bavieca--I wot his leap was light.
+
+With his own troop of true men forthwith he took the way,
+Three hundred friends and kinsmen, all gently born were they;
+All in one colour mantled, in armour gleaming gay,
+New were both scarf and scabbard, when they went forth that day.
+
+The King came out to meet him with words of hearty cheer;
+Quoth he, "My good Rodrigo, you are right welcome here;
+This girl Ximena Gomez would have ye for her lord,
+Already for the slaughter her grace she doth accord.
+
+"I pray you be consenting, my gladness will be great;
+You shall have lands in plenty, to strengthen your estate."
+"Lord King", Rodrigo answers, "in this and all beside,
+Command, and I'll obey you. The girl shall be my bride."--
+
+But when the fair Ximena came forth to plight her hand,
+Rodrigo, gazing on her, his face could not command:
+He stood and blushed before her;--thus at the last said he--
+"I slew thy sire, Ximena, but not in villany:-
+
+"In no disguise I slew him, man against man I stood;
+There was some wrong between us* and I did shed his blood.
+I slew a man, I owe a man; fair lady, by God's grace,
+An honoured husband thou shalt have in thy dead father's place."
+
+[1] See the account of this quarrel, "Non es de Sessudos Homes."
+
+--Tr. by Lockhart.
+
+
+BAVIECA.
+
+The favorite warrior horse of the Cid. There are several more
+ballads devoted to this charger.
+
+The King looked on him kindly, as on a vassal true;
+Then to the King Ruy Diaz spake after reverence due,--
+"O King, the thing is shameful, that any man beside
+The liege lord of Castile himself should Bavieca ride:
+
+"For neither Spain or Araby could another charger bring
+So good as he, and certes, the best befits my King.
+But that you may behold him, and know him to the core,
+I'll make him go as he was wont when his nostrils smelt the
+Moor."
+
+With that, the Cid, clad as he was in mantle furred and wide,
+On Bavieca vaulting, put the rowel in his side;
+And up and down, and round and round, so fierce was his career,
+Streamed like a pennon on the wind Ruy Diaz' minivere.
+
+And all that saw them praised them--they lauded man and horse,
+As matched well, and rivalless for gallantry and force
+Ne'er had they looked on horseman might to this knight come near,
+Nor on other charger worthy of such a cavalier.
+
+Thus, to and fro a-rushing, the fierce and furious steed,
+He snapt in twain his hither rein:--"God pity now the Cid."
+"God pity Diaz," cried the Lords,--but when they looked again,
+They saw Ruy Diaz ruling him, with the fragment of his rein;
+They saw him proudly ruling with gesture firm and calm,
+Like a true lord commanding--and obeyed as by a lamb.
+
+And so he led him foaming and panting to the King,
+But "No," said Don Alphonso, "it were a shameful thing
+That peerless Bavieca should ever be bestrid
+By any mortal but Bivar--Mount, mount again, my Cid."
+
+--Tr. by Lockhart.
+
+
+FROM THE POEM OF THE CID.
+
+The Cid has been banished by King Alphonso, has entered the
+Moors, country and taken a city. The Moors rally, gather their
+allies and surround the Cid's army. He turns to consult with his
+men.
+
+"From water they have cut us off, our bread is running low;
+If we would steal away by night, they will not let us go;
+Against us there are fearful odds if we make choice to fight;
+What would ye do now gentlemen, in this our present plight?"
+Minaya was the first to speak: said the stout cavalier,
+"Forth from Castile the gentle thrust, we are but exiles here;
+Unless we grapple with the Moor bread he will never yield;
+A good six hundred men or more we have to take the field;
+In God's name let us falter not, nor countenance delay,
+But sally forth and strike a blow upon to-morrow's day."
+  "Like thee the counsel," said my Cid; "thou speakest to my mind;
+And ready to support thy word thy hand we ever find."
+Then all the Moors that bide within the walls he bids to go
+Forth from the gates, lest they, perchance, his purpose come to
+know
+In making their defences good they spend the day and night,
+And at the rising of the sun they arm them for the fight.
+Then said the Cid: "Let all go forth, all that are in our band;
+Save only two of those on foot, beside the gate to stand.
+Here they will bury us if death we meet on yonder plain,
+But if we win our battle there, rich booty we shall gain.
+And thou Pero Bermuez, this my standard thou shalt hold;
+It is a trust that fits thee well, for thou art stout and bold;
+But see that thou advance it not unless I give command."
+Bermuez took the standard and he kissed the Champion's hand.
+Then bursting through the castle gates upon the plain they is
+how;
+Back on their lines in panic fall the watchmen of the foe.
+And hurrying to and fro the Moors are arming all around,
+While Moorish drums go rolling like to split the very ground,
+And in hot haste they mass their troops behind their standards
+twain,
+Two mighty bands of men-at-arms to count them it were vain.
+And now their line comes sweeping on, advancing to the fray,
+Sure of my Cid and all his band to make an easy prey.
+  "Now steady, comrades"' said my Cid; "our ground we have to
+stand;
+Let no man stir beyond the ranks until I give command."
+Bermuez fretted at the word, delay he could not brook;
+He spurred his charger to the front, aloft the banner shook:
+"O loyal Cid Campeador, God give the aid! I go
+To plant thy ensign in among the thickest of the foe;
+And ye who serve it, be it yours our standard to restore."
+"Not so--as thou dost love me, stay!" called the Campeador.
+Came Pero's answer, "Their attack I cannot, will not stay."
+He gave his horse the spur and dashed against the Moors array.
+To win the standard eager all the Moors await the shock,
+Amid a rain of blows he stands unshaken as a rock.
+Then cried my Cid: "In charity, on to the rescue--ho!"
+With bucklers braced before their breasts, with lances pointing
+low,
+With stooping crests and heads bent down above the saddle bow,
+All firm of hand and high of heart they roll upon the foe.
+And he that in a good hour was born, his clarion voice rings out,
+And clear above the clang of arms is heard his battle shout,
+"Among them, gentlemen! Strike home for the love of charity!
+The Champion of Bivar is here--Ruy Diaz--I am he!"
+Then bearing where Bermuez still maintains unequal fight,
+Three hundred lances down they come, their pennons flickering
+white;
+Down go three hundred Moors to earth, a man to every blow;
+And when they wheel three hundred more, as wheeling back they go.
+It was a sight to see the lances rise and fall that day;
+The shivered shields and riven mail, to see how thick they lay;
+The pennons that went in snow-white come out a gory red;
+The horses running riderless, the riders lying dead;
+While Moors call on Mohammed, and "St. James!" the Christians
+cry,
+And sixty score of Moors and more in narrow compass lie.
+Above his gilded saddle-bow there played the Champion's sword;
+And Minaya Alvar Fanez, Zurita's gallant lord;
+Add Martin Antolinez the worthy Burgalese;
+And Muno Gustioz his squire--all to the front were these.
+And there was Martin Mufloz, he who ruled in Mont Mayor;
+And there was Alvar Alvarez, and Alvar Salvador;
+And the good Galin Garcia, stout lance of Arragon;
+And Felix Mufloz, nephew of my Cid the Champion.
+Well did they quit themselves that day, all these and many more,
+In rescue of the standard for my Cid Campeador.
+
+--Tr. by Ormsby.
+
+
+THE BATTLE WITH KING BUCAR OF MOROCCO, AT VALENCIA.
+
+Loud from among the Moorish tents the call to battle comes,
+And some there are, unused to war, awed by the rolling drums.
+Ferrando and Diego most: of troubled mind are they;
+Not of their will they find themselves before the Moors that day.
+"Pero Burmuez," said the Cid, "my nephew staunch and true,
+Ferrando and Diego do I give in charge to you;
+Be yours the task in this day's fight my sons-in-law to shield,
+For, by God's grace to-day we sweep the Moors from off the
+field!"
+"Nay," said Bermuez, "Cid, for all the love I bear to thee,
+The safety of thy sons-in-law no charge of mine shall be.
+Let him who will the office fill; my place is at the front,
+Among the comrades of my choice to bear the battle's brunt;
+As it is thine upon the rear against surprise to guard,
+And ready stand to give support where'er the fight goes hard."
+Came Alvar Fanez: "Loyal Cid Campeador," he cried,
+"This battle surely God ordains--He will be on our side;
+Now give the order of attack which seems to thee the befit,
+And, trust me, every man of us will do his chief's behest."
+But lo! all armed from head to heel the Bishop Jeronie shows;
+He ever brings good fortune to my Cid where'er he goes.
+  "Mass have I said, and now I come to join you in the fray;
+To strike a blow against the Moor in battle if I may,
+And in the field win honor for my order and my hand.
+It is for this that I am here, far from my native land.
+Unto Valencia did I come to cast my lot with you,
+All for the longing that I had to slay a Moor or two.
+And so in warlike guise I come, with blazoned shield and lance,
+That I may flesh my blade to-day, if God but give the chance,
+Then send me to the front to do the bidding of my heart:
+Grant me this favor that I ask, or else, my Cid, we part."
+"Good!" said my Cid. "Go, flesh thy blade; there stand thy Moorish
+foes.
+Now shall we see how gallantly our fighting Abbot goes."
+He said; and straight the Bishop's spurs are in his charger's
+flanks,
+And with a will he flings himself against the Moorish ranks.
+By his good fortune, and the aid of God, that loved him well,
+Two of the foe before his point at the first onset fell.
+His lance he broke, he drew his sword--God! how the good steel
+played!
+Two with the lance he slew, now five go down beneath his blade.
+But many are the Moors and round about him fast they close,
+And on his hauberk, and his shield, they rain a shower of blows.
+He in the good hour born beheld Don Jerome sorely pressed;
+He braced his buckler on his arm, he laid his lance in rest,
+And aiming where beset by Moors the Bishop stood at bay,
+Touched Bavieca with the spur and plunged into the fray;
+And flung to earth unhorsed were seven, and lying dead were four,
+Where breaking through the Moorish ranks came the Campeador.
+God it so pleased, that this should be the finish of the fight;
+Before the lances of my Cid the fray became a flight;
+And then to see the tent-ropes burst, the tent-poles prostrate
+flung!
+As the Cid's horsemen crashing came the Moorish tents among.
+Forth from the camp King Bucar's Moors they drove upon the plain,
+And charging on the rout, they rode and cut them down amain
+Here severed lay the mail-clad arm, there lay the steel-capped
+head,
+And here the charger riderless, ran trampling on the dead.
+Behind King Bucar as he fled my Cid came spurring on;
+"Now, turn thee, Bucar, turn!" he cried; "here is the Bearded
+One:
+Here is that Cid you came to seek, King from beyond the main,
+Let there be peace and amity to-day between us twain."
+Said Bucar, "Nay; thy naked sword, thy rushing steed, I see;
+If these mean amity, then God confound such amity.
+Thy hand and mine shall never join unless in yonder deep,
+If the good steed that I bestride his footing can but keep."
+Swift was the steed, but swifter borne on Bavieca's stride,
+Three fathoms from the sea my Cid rode at King Bucar's side;
+Aloft his blade a moment played, then on the helmet's crown,
+Shearing the steel-cap dight with gems, Colada he brought down.
+Down to the belt, through helm and mail, he cleft the Moor in
+twain.
+And so he slew King Bucar, who came from beyond the main.
+This was the battle, this the day, when he the great sword won,
+Worth a full thousand marks of gold--the famous Brand Tizon.
+
+--Tr. by Ormsby.
+
+
+CHAPTER III. SCANDINAVIAN LITERATURE.
+
+Scandinavian literature embraces the literature of Norway,
+Sweden, Iceland, and their western colonies. In the Middle Ages
+this literature reached its fullest and best development in
+Iceland.
+
+The earliest and greatest portion of this literature is the
+heroic poetry forming the collection called the Poetic or Elder
+Edda. Like all early poetry these were minstrel poems, passing
+orally from singer (skald) to singer for centuries. Some of them
+were composed as early as the eighth century. The collection was
+probably made in the thirteenth century (1240). The collection
+consists of thirty-nine distinct songs or poems. They are based
+upon common Norse mythology and tradition. In one section of this
+collection is found in outline the story of the Nibelungs and
+Brunhild-the story which later formed the basis of the
+"Niebelungen-Lied". This fact connects the two literatures with
+the original common Teutonic traditions. Anderson says, "The
+Elder Edda presents the Norse cosmogony, the doctrines of the
+Odinic mythology, and the lives and doings of the gods. It
+contains also a cycle of poems on the demigods and mythic heroes
+and heroines of the same period. It gives us as complete a view
+of the mythological world of the North as Homer and Hesiod do of
+that of Greece" (Norse Mythology).  Almost equal in importance
+and interest is the Prose Edda, sometimes called the Younger
+Edda, arranged and in part written by Snorra Sturleson, who lived
+from 1178 to 1241. The chief portions of it are:
+
+1. "Gylfaginning," in which Odin recounts to Gylf the history of
+the gods.
+
+2. "Bragaraethur, the conversations of Braga the god of poetry.
+
+Other and less important varieties of Scandinavian literature are
+the romances of history and romances of pure fiction.
+
+
+VOLUSPA.  THE ORACLE OF THE PROPHETESS VALA.
+
+The Voluspa is the first song in the Elder Edda. It is a song of
+a prophetess and gives an account of the creation of the world,
+of man, giants, and dwarfs; of the employments of fairies or
+destinies; of the functions of the gods, their adventures, their
+quarrels, and the vengeance they take; of the final state of the
+universe and its dissolution; of the battle of the lower deities
+and the evil beings; of the renovation of the world; of the happy
+lot of the good, and the punishment of the wicked. The first
+passage selected gives the account of creation.
+
+In early times,
+When Ymer[1] lived,
+Was sand, nor sea,
+Nor cooling wave;
+No earth was found,
+Nor heaven above;
+One chaos all,
+And nowhere grass:
+
+Until Bor's[2] sons
+Th' expanse did raise,
+By whom Midgard [3]
+The great was made.
+From th' south the sun
+Shone on the walls;
+Then did the earth
+Green herbs produce.
+
+The sun turned south;
+The moon did shine;
+Her right hand held
+The horse of heaven.
+The sun knew not
+His proper sphere;
+The stars knew not
+Their proper place;
+The moon know not
+Her proper power.
+
+Then all the powers
+Went to the throne,
+The holy gods,
+And held consult:
+Night and cock-crowing
+Their names they gave,
+Morning also,
+And noon-day tide,
+And afternoon,
+The years to tell.
+
+The Asas[4] met
+On Ida's plains,
+Who altars raised
+And temples built;
+Anvils they laid,
+And money coined;
+Their strength they tried
+In various ways,
+When making songs,
+And forming tools.
+
+On th' green they played
+In joyful mood,
+Nor knew at all
+The want of gold,
+Until there came
+Three Thursa maids,
+Exceeding strong,
+From Jotunheim:[5]
+. . . .
+Until there came
+Out of the ranks,
+Powerful and fair,
+Three Asas home,
+And found on shore,
+In helpless plight,
+Ask and Embla [6]
+Without their fate.
+
+They had not yet
+Spirit or mind,
+Blood, or beauty,
+Or lovely hue.
+Odin gave spirit,
+Heinir gave mind,
+Lothur gave blood
+And lovely hue.
+
+[1] Ymer, the progenitor of the giants.
+
+[2] Bor, the father of Odin, Vile, and Ve.
+
+[3] Midgard, the earth.
+
+[4] Asas, the gods.
+
+[5] The home of the giants.
+
+[6] The first man and first woman made out of pine trees by the
+three gods Odin, Heinir, and Lothur.
+
+--Tr. by Henderson.
+
+
+The second passage gives an account of the universal
+dissolution--called Ragnarok, the Twilight of the Gods.
+
+Loud barks Garm 1]
+At Gnipa-cave;
+The fetters are severed,
+The wolf is set free,
+Vala[2] knows the future.
+More does she see
+Of the victorious gods,
+Terrible fall.
+
+From the east drives Hrym,[3]
+Bears his child before him;
+Jormungander welters
+In giant fierceness;
+The waves thunder;
+The eagle screams,
+Rends the corpses with pale beak,
+And Naglfar[4] is launched.
+A ship from the east nears,
+The hosts of Muspel
+Come o'er the main,
+But Loke is pilot.
+All grim and gaunt monsters
+Conjoin with the wolf,
+And before them all goes
+The brother of Byleist.[5]
+
+From the south wends Surt [6]
+With seething fire;
+The sun of the war-god
+Shines in his sword;
+Mountains together dash,
+And frighten the giant-maids;
+Heroes tread the paths to Hel,
+And heaven in twain is rent.
+Over Him [7] then shall come
+Another woe,
+When Odin goes forth
+The wolf to combat.
+. . . .
+All men
+Abandon the earth.
+
+The sun darkens,
+The earth sinks into the ocean;
+The lucid stars
+From heaven vanish;
+Fire and vapor
+Rage toward heaven;
+High flames
+Involve the skies.
+
+Loud barks Garm
+At Gnipa-eave:
+The fetters are severed,
+The wolf is set free,--
+Vala knows the future.
+More does she see
+Of the victorious gods,
+Terrible fall.
+
+[1] Hel's dog.
+
+[2] Vala, the prophetess.
+
+[3] The winter.
+
+[4] Naglfar, a ship of the gods.
+
+[5] The brother of Byleist, Loke.
+
+[6] Surt, a fire-giant.
+
+[7] Hlin, a name sometimes used for the goddess, Frigg.
+
+
+--Tr. by Thorpe.
+
+
+The conclusion of the "Voluspa "is the following picture of the
+regenerated earth.
+
+She sees arise,
+The second time,
+From the sea, the earth
+Completely green:
+Cascades do fall;
+The eagle soars,
+That on the hills
+Pursues his prey.
+
+The gods convene
+On Ida's plains,
+And talk of man,
+The worm of dust:
+They call to mind
+Their former might,
+And the ancient runes
+Of Fimbultyr.[1]
+
+The fields unsown
+Shall yield their growth;
+All ills shall cease;
+Balder[2] shall come,
+And dwell with Hauthr[3]
+In Hropt's[4] abodes.
+Say, warrior-gods,
+Conceive ye yet?
+
+A hall she sees
+Outshine the sun,
+Of gold its roof,
+It stands in heaven:
+The virtuous there
+Shall always dwell,
+And evermore
+Delights enjoy.
+
+[1] Fimbultyr, Odin.
+
+[2] Balder, the god of the summer.
+
+[3] Hauthr, Hoder, the brother of Balder.
+
+[4] Hropt, Odin. of Odinic morality and precepts of wisdom, in
+the form of social and moral maxims.
+
+--Tr. by Henderson.
+
+
+HAVAMAL.
+
+The High-Song of Odin. This is the second song in the Elder Edda.
+Odin himself is represented as its author. It contains a pretty
+complete code.
+
+All door-ways
+Before going forward,
+Should be looked to;
+For difficult it is to know
+Where foes may sit
+Within a dwelling.
+. . . .
+Of his understanding
+No one should be proud,
+But rather in conduct cautious.
+When the prudent and taciturn
+Come to a dwelling,
+Harm seldom befalls the cautious;
+For a firmer friend
+No man ever gets
+Than great sagacity.
+. . . .
+One's own house is best,
+Small though it be;
+At home is every one his own master.
+Though he but two goats possess,
+And a straw-thatched cot,
+Even that is better than begging.
+
+One's own house is best,
+Small though it be;
+At home is every one his own master.
+Bleeding at heart is he
+Who has to ask
+For food at every meal-tide.
+. . . .
+A miserable man,
+And ill-conditioned,
+Sneers at everything:
+One thing he knows not,
+Which he ought to know,
+That he is not free from faults.
+. . . .
+Know if thou hast a friend
+Whom thou fully trustest,
+And from whom thou would'st good derive;
+Thou should'st blend thy mind with his,
+And gifts exchange,
+And often go to see him.
+
+If thou hast another
+Whom thou little trustest,
+Yet would'st good from him derive,
+Thou should'st speak him fair,
+But think craftily,
+And leasing pay with lying.
+
+But of him yet further
+Whom thou little trustest,
+And thou suspectest his affection,
+Before him thou should'st laugh,
+And contrary to thy thoughts speak;
+Requital should the gift resemble.
+
+I once was young,
+I was journeying alone
+And lost my way;
+Rich I thought myself
+When I met another:
+Man is the joy of man.
+
+Liberal and brave
+Men live best,
+They seldom cherish sorrow;
+But a bare-minded man
+Dreads everything;
+The niggardly is uneasy even at gifts.
+
+My garments in a field
+I gave away
+To two wooden men:
+Heroes they seemed to be
+When they got cloaks:[1]
+Exposed to insult is a naked man.
+. . . . .
+Something great
+Is not always to be given,
+Praise is often for a trifle bought.
+With half a loaf
+And a tilted vessel
+I got myself a comrade.
+Little are the sand grains,
+Little the wits,
+Little the minds of men;
+For all men
+Are not wise alike:
+Men are everywhere by halves.
+Moderately wise
+Should each one be,
+But never over-wise;
+For a wise man's heart
+Is seldom glad,
+If he is all-wise who owns it.
+. . . .
+Much too early
+I came to many places,
+But too late to others;
+The beer was drunk, or not ready:
+The disliked seldom hits the moment.
+. . . .
+Cattle die,
+Kindred die,
+We ourselves also die;
+But the fair fame
+Never dies of him who has earned it.
+
+Cattle die,
+Kindred die,
+We ourselves also die;
+But I know one thing
+That never dies,
+Judgment on each one dead.
+
+[1] The tailor makes the man.
+
+
+--Tr. by Thorpe.
+
+
+VAFTHRUDNISMAL. THE SONG OF VAFTHRUDNER.
+
+From the third poem in the Elder Edda came the following lines,
+describing the day and the night:
+
+Delling called is he
+Who the Day's father is,
+But Night was of Norve born;
+The new and waning moons
+The beneficent powers created
+To count years for men.
+
+Skinfaxe[1] he is named
+That the bright day draws
+Forth over human kind;
+Of coursers he is best accounted
+Among faring men;
+Ever sheds light that horse's mane.
+
+Hrimfaxe[2] he is called
+That each night draws forth
+Over the beneficent powers;
+He from his bit lets fall
+Drops every morn
+Whence in the dells comes dew.
+--Tr. by Thorpe
+
+[1] Skinfaxe (shining mane), the horse of Day.
+
+[2] Hrimfaxe (Rime mane), the horse of Night.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV. GERMAN LITERATURE.
+
+There are three classical periods in German literature.[1]
+
+[1] See Scherer's "History of German Literature." Vol. I., page
+16.
+
+
+1. The Old High German Period, culminating about 600 A. D. The
+chief development of this period is the epic legend and poetry.
+As this literature remained largely unwritten, it is all lost
+except one fragment, The Song of Hildebrand.
+
+2. The Middle High German Period, culminating about 1200 A. D.
+This was in Germany, as elsewhere in Europe, a time of abundant
+literary activity. It is the period of the renaissance of the
+heroic legends of the first period, and their remaking into
+developed epic poetry; of the writing of romances of chivalry and
+of antiquity; of the development of the lyric poetry of the
+Minnesingers; of the growth of popular fables and tales and of
+the drama. In short, all the forms of literary production known
+to the Middle Ages flourished in Germany in this period.
+
+3. The Modern Classical Period, culminating about 1800 in the
+work of Goethe, Schiller, and the many poets and scholars
+surrounding them.
+
+
+THE NATIONAL EPIC.
+
+The fragment of the "Song of Hildebrand" is the sole surviving
+portion of the heroic literature of the first period. The story
+runs that "Hildebrand had fought in his youth in Italy, married
+there, and left a three-year son, when he was driven by Odoacer
+to Attila, king of the Huns. After years, in which the son grew
+up to manhood, Hildebrand re-entered Italy as a great chief in
+the army of Theodorle. His son, Hadubrand was then a chief
+combatant in Odoacer's army." They challenge each other to
+combat, and though the fragment ends before the fight is over, it
+is thought from other references that Hildebrand is victor.
+
+
+THE SONG OF HILDEBRAND.
+
+I have heard tell, they called each other forth,
+Hildebrand, Hadubrand, among the hosts.
+Son, father, made them ready for the strife.
+Donned their war shirts, and girded on their swords
+Over ringed mail, rode, heroes, to the fight.
+
+Hildebrand, Herbrand's son, the elder man
+And wiser, spake, well skilled in questionings
+Asked in few words, who among all the folk
+His father was, "or of what stock thou be?
+Tell, and I'll give a mail of triple web:
+Child in this realm, I knew its families."
+Hadubrand spoke, Hildebrand's son: "The old
+And wise among our folk tell me my father
+Was Hildebrand, my name is Hadubrand.
+My father went to the east to fly the hate
+Of Otaker, with Dietrich and his bands.
+A slender bride abiding in the lands
+He left in bower, with an ungrown child,
+And weapons masterless. Eastward he went
+When sorrow came to Deitrich, friendless man,
+My kinsman Otaker became his foe.
+Most famed of warriors, since Dietrich fell,
+Foremost in every field, he loved the fight,
+Praised by the bold, I doubt not he is dead."
+
+"Lord God of men," spake Hildebrand, "from heaven
+Stay strife between two men so near in blood!"
+Then twisted from his arm the bracelet ring
+That once the King of Huns had given him,
+I give it you in token of my love."
+Spake Hadubrand, the son of Hildebrand,
+"At the spear's point I take of you such gifts,
+Point against point. No comrade thou, old Hun,
+With Bly, enticing words wouldst win me near:
+My answer to thee is with cast of spear.
+Thou'rt old. This cunning out of age is bred."
+Over the Midland Sea came foes who said,
+"Hildebrand, son of Herbrand, he is dead."
+
+Hildebrand, son of Herbrand, spake again:
+"Thine arms show that in this land thou couldst not gain
+A liberal leader or a royal friend.
+Now well away. Great God, fate's evil end!
+For sixty years, exile in stranger lands,
+Summer and winter with spear-darting bands,
+Never once leg bound within city wall,
+I come back by my own son's hand to fall,
+Hewn by his sword, or be his murderer,--
+But if thy strength hold, thou canst readily
+Win of the brave his arms, spoil of the slain,
+When thine by right." Said Hildebrand, "Now, worst
+Of Ostrogoths be he who holds me back! My heart is for the fray.
+Judge comrades who look on, which of us wins
+The fame, best throws the dart, and earns the spoil."
+The ashen spears then sped, stuck in the shields
+With their keen points, and down on the white shields
+The heavy axes rang with sounding blows,
+Shattering their rims, the flesh behind stood firm. . . .
+
+--Tr. by Morley.
+
+
+In the second, or Middle High German Period, the heroic legends
+of early times were revived and formed the subject matter of many
+epic and semi epic poems. These legends have been classified into
+six several cycles of romances:[1]
+
+[1] Cf. Morley's "English Writers." Vol. III., pp. 152-4.
+
+
+1. The Frankish cycle contains the stories of Siegfried, the
+Sigurd of the Scandinavian tradition.
+
+2. The Burgundian cycle contains King Gunther.
+
+3. The Ostrogoth cycle contains Dietrich, Theodoric, and
+Hildebrand.
+
+4. The Hungarian cycle, to which belongs Attila or Etzel, and
+Rudiger.
+
+5. The Lombard cycle, to which belong King Rother, King Otnit,
+and Wolfdietrich.
+
+6. The North Saxon cycle, to which belongs the tale of Gudrun.
+The two most important of all the epics based upon these cycles
+are the Gudrun and the Niebelungenlied. The latter is the more
+comprehensive, national, and famous. It includes and unifies all
+the tales from the first four cycles of heroic legends.[1] The
+whole of German art, literature, and tradition is full of
+reflections of this poem. The best scholarship has concluded that
+the poem is not the work of a single author, but, like other folk
+epics, an edited collection of songs. The work was finished about
+1190-1210. It consists of two greater parts, (1) the "Death of
+Siegfried" and (2) the "Vengeance of Kriemhild".
+
+[1] See Kluge, "Geschichte der Deutschen National-Literature," p.
+33.
+
+
+From the "Niebelungenlied". The first song in the poem gives us
+Kriemhild's foreboding dream.
+
+KRIEMHILD'S DREAM.
+Stanzas 1-19.
+
+In stories of our fathers high marvels we are told
+Of champions well approved in perils manifold.
+Of feasts and merry meetings, of weeping and of wail,
+And deeds of gallant daring I'll tell you in my tale.
+
+In Burgundy there flourish'd a maid so fair to see,
+That in all the world together a fairer could not be.
+This maiden's name was Kriemhild; through her in dismal strife
+Full many a proudest warrior thereafter lost his life.
+
+Many a fearless champion, as such well became,
+Woo'd the lovely lady; she from none had blame.
+Matchless was her person, matchless was her mind.
+This one maiden's virtue grac'd all womankind.
+
+Three puissant Kings her guarded with all the care they might,
+Gunther and eke Gernot, each a redoubted knight,
+And Giselher the youthful, a chosen champion he;
+This lady was their sister, well lov'd of all the three.
+
+They were high of lineage, thereto mild of mood,
+But in field and foray champions fierce and rude.
+They rul'd a mighty kingdom, Burgundy by name;
+They wrought in Etzel's country deeds of deathless fame.
+
+At Worms was their proud dwelling, the fair Rhine flowing by,
+There had they suit and service from haughtiest chivalry
+For broad lands and lordships, and glorious was their state,
+Till wretchedly they perish'd by two noble ladies' hate.
+
+Dame Uta was their mother, a queen both rich and sage;
+Their father hight Dancrat, who the fair heritage
+Left to his noble children when he his course had run;
+He too by deeds of knighthood in youth had worship won.
+
+Each of these three princes, as you have heard me say,
+Were men of mighty puissance. They had beneath their sway
+The noblest knights for liegemen that ever dwelt on ground;
+For hardihood and prowess were none so high renown'd.
+
+There was Hagan of Troy of a noble line,
+His brother nimble Dankwart, and the knight of Metz, Ortwine,
+Eckewart and Gary, the margraves stout in fight,
+Folker of Alzeia, full of manly might.
+
+Rumolt the steward (a chosen knight was he),
+Sindolt, and Hunolt; these serv'd the brethren three,
+At their court discharging their several duties well;
+Besides, knights had they many whom now I cannot tell.
+
+Dankwart was marshal to the king his lord,
+Ortwine of Metz, his nephew, was carver at the board,
+Sindolt he was butler, a champion choice and true,
+The chamberlain was Hunolt; they well their duties knew.
+
+The gorgeous pomp and splendour, wherein these brethren reign'd,
+How well they tended knighthood, what worship they attain'd,
+How they thro' life were merry, and mock'd at woe and bale--
+Who'd seek all this to tell you, would never end his tale.
+
+A dream was dreamt by Kriemhild the virtuous and the gay,
+How a wild young falcon she train'd for many a day,
+Till two fierce eagles tore it; to her there could not be
+In all the world such sorrow at this perforce to see.
+To her mother Uta at once the dream she told,
+
+But she the threatening future could only thus unfold;
+"The falcon that thou trainedst is sure a noble mate;
+God shield him in his mercy, or thou must lose him straight."
+
+"A mate for me? what say'st thou, dearest mother mine?
+Ne'er to love, assure thee, my heart will I resign.
+I'll live and die a maiden, and end as I began,
+Nor (let what else befall me) will suffer woe for man."
+
+"Nay", said her anxious mother, "renounce not marriage so;
+Wouldst thou true heartfelt pleasure taste ever here below,
+Man's love alone can give it. Thou'rt fair as eye can see,
+A fitting mate God send thee, and nought will wanting be."
+
+"No more," the maiden answer'd, "no more, dear mother, say;
+From many a woman's fortune this truth is clear as day,
+That falsely smiling Pleasure with Pain requites us ever.
+I from both will keep me, and thus will sorrow never."
+
+So in her lofty virtues, fancy-free and gay,
+Liv'd the noble maiden many a happy day,
+Nor one more than another found favour in her sight;
+Still at the last she wedded a far-renowned knight.
+
+He was the self-same falcon she in her dream had seen,
+Foretold by her wise mother. What vengeance took the queen
+On her nearest kinsmen who him to death had done!
+That single death atoning died many a mother's son.
+
+
+In his home in the Netherlands the hero Siegfried hears of the
+beauty of Kriemhild and after magnificent preparations comes to
+Worms to win her, if possible, for his bride. After a long stay
+at the court of her brother, he finally sees her at a feast. They
+love each other at their first meeting.  In Isenstein, far over
+the sea, lives Brunhild, the Amazon-queen, who is pledged to wed
+only him who can conquer her in single combat. Gunther, the
+brother of Kriemhild, desires her for his wife. Siegfried
+promises to win her for him on condition that Gunther grant him
+Kriemhild's hand in return. They proceed to Brunhild's land,
+where Siegfried, by the aid of a magic cloak, which renders him
+invisible, helps Gunther to overcome Brunhild.
+
+
+THE CONQUEST OF BRUNHILD.
+Stanza 447-455.
+
+There too was come fair Brunhild; arm'd might you see her stand,
+As though resolv'd to champion all kings for all their land.
+She bore on her silk surcoat, gold spangles light and thin,
+That quivering gave sweet glimpses of her fair snowy skin.
+
+Then came on her followers, and forward to the field
+Of ruddy gold far-sparkling bore a mighty shield,
+Thick, and broad, and weighty, with studs of steel o'erlaid,
+The which was wont in battle to wield the martial maid.
+
+As thong to that huge buckler a gorgeous band there lay;
+Precious stones beset it as green as grass in May;
+With varying hues it glitter'd against the glittering gold.
+Who would woo its wielder must be boldest of the bold.
+
+Beneath its folds enormous three spans thick was the shield,
+If all be true they tell us, that Brunhild bore in field.
+Of steel and gold compacted all gorgeously it glow'd.
+Four chamberlains, that bore it, stagger'd beneath the load.
+
+Grimly smil'd Sir Hagan, Trony's champion strong,
+And mutter'd, as he mark'd it trail'd heavily along,
+"How now, my lord king Gunther? who thinks to scape with life?
+This love of yours and lady--'faith she's the devil's wife."
+. . . . . . . . . . .
+Then to the maid was carried heavily and slow
+A strong well-sharpen'd jav'lin, which she ever us'd to throw,
+Huge and of weight enormous, fit for so strong a queen,
+Cutting deep and deadly with its edges keen.
+
+To form the mighty spear-head a wondrous work was done;
+Three weights of iron and better were welden into one;
+The same three men of Brunhild's scarcely along could bring;
+Whereat deeply ponder'd the stout Burgundian king.
+
+To himself thus thought he, "What have I not to fear?
+The devil himself could scarcely 'scape from such danger clear.
+In sooth, if I were only in safety by the Rhine,
+Long might remain this maiden free from all suit of mine."
+. . . . . . . . . . . . .
+
+Stanza 464-483.
+Then was the strength of Brunhild to each beholder shown.
+Into the ring by th' effort of panting knights a stone
+Was borne of weight enormous, massy and large and round.
+It strain'd twelve brawny champions to heave it to the ground.
+
+This would she cast at all times when she had hurl'd the spear;
+The sight the bold Burgundians fill'd with care and fear.
+Quoth Hagan, "she's a darling to lie by Gunther's side.
+Better the foul fiend take her to serve him as a bride."
+
+Her sleeve back turn'd the maiden, and bar'd her arm of snow,
+Her heavy shield she handled, and brandished to and fro
+High o'er her head the jav'lin; thus began the strife.
+Bold as they were, the strangers each trembled for his life;
+
+And had not then to help him come Siegfried to his side,
+At once by that grim maiden had good King Gunther died.
+Unseen up went he to him, unseen he touch'd his hand.
+His trains bewilder'd Gunther was slow to understand.
+
+"Who was it just now touch'd me?" thought he and star'd around
+To see who could be near him; not a soul he found.
+Said th' other, "I am Siegfried, thy trusty friend and true;
+Be not in fear a moment for all the queen can do."
+
+Said he, "off with the buckler and give it me to bear;
+Now, what I shall advise thee, mark with thy closest care.
+Be it thine to make the gestures, and mine the work to do."
+Glad man was then king Gunther, when he his helpmate knew.
+
+"But all my trains keep secret; thus for us both 'twere best;
+Else this o'erweening maiden, be sure, will never rest,
+Till her grudge against thee to full effect she bring.
+See where she stands to face thee so sternly in the ring!"
+
+With all her strength the jav'lin the forceful maiden threw.
+It came upon the buckler massy, broad, and new,
+That in his hand unshaken, the son of Sieglind bore.
+Sparks from the steel came streaming, as if the breeze before.
+
+Right through the groaning buckler the spear tempestuous broke;
+Fire from the mail-links sparkled beneath the thund'ring stroke,
+Those two mighty champions stagger'd from side to side;
+But for the wondrous cloud-cloak both on the spot had died.
+
+From the mouth of Siegfried burst the gushing blood;
+Soon he again sprung forward; straight snatch'd the hero good
+The spear that through his buckler she just had hurl'd amain,
+And sent it at its mistress in thunder back again.
+
+Thought he "'t were sure a pity so fair a maid to slay;"
+So he revers'd the jav'lin, and turn'd the point away.
+Yet, with the butt end foremost, so forceful was the throw,
+That the sore-smitten damsel totter'd to and fro.
+
+From her mail fire sparkled as driven before the blast;
+With such huge strength the jav'lin by Sieglind's son was cast,
+That 'gainst the furious impulse she could no longer stand.
+A stroke so sturdy never could come from Gunther's hand.
+
+Up in a trice she started, and straight her silence broke,
+"Noble knight, Sir Gunther, 'thank thee for the stroke."
+She thought 't was Gunther's manhood had laid her on the lea;
+No! It was not he had fell'd her, but a mightier far than he.
+
+Then turn'd aside the maiden; angry was her mood;
+On high the stone she lifted rugged and round and rude,
+And brandish'd it with fury, and far before her flung,
+Then bounded quick behind it, that loud her armour rung.
+
+Twelve fathoms' length or better the mighty mass was thrown,
+But the maiden bounded further than the stone.
+To where the stone was lying Siegfried fleetly flew
+Gunther did but lift it, th' Unseen it was, who threw.
+
+Bold, tall, and strong was Siegfried, the first all knights
+among;
+He threw the stone far further, behind it further sprung.
+His wondrous arts had made him so more than mortal strong,
+That with him as he bounded, he bore the king along.
+
+The leap was seen of all men, there lay as plain the stone,
+But seen was no one near it, save Gunther all alone.
+Brunhild was red with anger, quick came her panting breath;
+Siegfried has rescued Gunther that day from certain death.
+
+Then all aloud fair Brunhild bespake her courtier band,
+Seeing in the ring at distance unharm'd her wooer stand,
+"Hither, my men and kinsmen: low to my better bow;
+I am no more your mistress; you're Gunther's liegemen now."
+
+Down cast the noble warriors their weapons hastily,
+And lowly kneel'd to Gunther the king of Burgundy.
+To him as to their sovran was kingly homage done,
+Whose manhood, as they fancied, the mighty match had won.
+
+He fair the chiefs saluted bending with gracious look;
+Then by the hand the maiden her conquering suitor took,
+And granted him to govern the land with sovran sway;
+Whereat the warlike nobles were joyous all and gay.
+
+
+Upon the return to Worms the double marriage feast is
+celebrated--the weddings of Gunther and Brunhild, of Siegfried
+and Kriemhild. A second time is Gunther compelled to ask the help
+of Siegfried in conquering Brunhild, who again thinks that
+Gunther is the conqueror. From this second struggle Siegfried
+carries away Brunhild's ring and girdle, which he gives to
+Kriemhild.  Siegfried and Kriemhild depart to his country, and
+not until after ten years do they visit again the court of
+Gunther. At the festival given in honor of this visit, the two
+queens, looking on at the knightly games, fall into a bitter
+quarrel concerning the prowess of their husbands. Kriemhild
+boasts to Brunhild that it was Siegfried and not Gunther who
+overcame her in both struggles. To prove her taunt she shows the
+girdle and ring. Brunhild is thrown into violent anger by the
+insult and desires only vengeance upon Siegfried and Kriemhild.
+Hagen, the most valiant of Gunther's vassals, takes up her cause,
+and seeks opportunity to kill Siegfried.  A war against the
+Saxons is declared, in which Siegfried offers to assist Gunther.
+On the eve of the departure to battle, Hagen visits Kriemhild.
+She begs him to protect Siegfried, and tells him the story of her
+husband's one vulnerable spot--when Siegfried had killed the
+dragon, he bathed in its blood, and was rendered invulnerable,
+except in one spot, where a lime leaf fell between his shoulders.
+This spot the dragon blood did not touch.  Kriemhild promises to
+mark this spot with a silken cross, that Hagen may the better
+protect her husband. The next morning the excursion against the
+Saxons is withdrawn, and the heroes conclude to go on a hunting
+party.
+
+
+THE HUNTING AND THE DEATH OF SIEGFRIED.
+Stanzas 944-958.
+
+Gunther and Hagan, the warriors fierce and bold,
+To execute their treason, resolved to scour the wold.
+The bear, the boar, the wild bull, by hill or dale or fen,
+To hunt with keen-edg'd javelins; what fitter sport for valiant
+men?
+
+In lordly pomp rode with them Siegfried the champion strong.
+Good store of costly viands they brought with them along.
+Anon by a cool runnel he lost his guiltless life.
+'T was so devis'd by Brunhild, King Gunther's moody wife.
+
+But first he sought the chamber where he his lady found.
+He and his friends already had on the sumpters bound
+Their gorgeous hunting raiment; they o'er the Rhine would go.
+Never before was Kriemhild sunk so deep in woe.
+
+On her mouth of roses he kiss'd his lady dear;
+"God grant me, dame, returning in health to see thee here;
+So may those eyes see me too; meanwhile be blithe and gay
+Among thy gentle kinsmen; I must hence away."
+
+Then thought she on the secret (the truth she durst not tell)
+How she had told it Hagan; then the poor lady fell
+To wailing and lamenting that ever she was born.
+Then wept she without measure, sobbing and sorrow-worn.
+
+She thus bespake her husband, "Give up that chace of thine.
+I dreamt last night of evil, how two fierce forest swine
+Over the heath pursued thee; the flowers turn'd bloody red.
+I cannot help thus weeping; I'm chill'd with mortal dread.
+
+I fear some secret treason, and cannot lose thee hence,
+Lest malice should be borne thee from misconceiv'd offence.
+Stay, my beloved Siegfried, take not my words amiss.
+'T is the true love I bear thee that bids me counsel this."
+
+"Back shall I be shortly, my own beloved mate.
+Not a soul in Rhineland know I, who bears me hate.
+I'm well with all thy kinsmen; they're all my firm allies;
+Nor have I from any e'er deserv'd otherwise."
+
+"Nay! do not, dearest Siegfried! 't is e'en thy death I dread.
+Last night I dreamt, two mountains fell thundering on thy head,
+And I no more beheld thee; if thou from me wilt go,
+My heart will sure be breaking with bitterness of woe."
+
+Round her peerless body his clasping arms he threw;
+Lovingly he kiss'd her, that faithful wife and true;
+Then took his leave, and parted;--in a moment all was o'er--
+Living, alas poor lady! she saw him never more.
+
+
+In the chase Siegfried prefers to hunt with a single limehound.
+But he achieves most marvelous feats of skill and strength.
+
+
+Stanzas 962-971.
+All, that the limehound started, anon with mighty hand
+Were slain by noble Siegfried the chief of Netherland.
+No beast could there outrun him, so swift is steed could race;
+He won from all high praises for mastery in the chace.
+
+Whatever he attempted, he went the best before.
+The first beast he encounter'd was a fierce half-bred boar.
+Him with a mighty death-stroke he stretch'd upon the ground;
+Just after in a thicket a lion huge he found.
+
+Him the limehound started; his bow Sir Siegfried drew;
+With a keen-headed arrow he shot the lion through.
+But three faint bounds thereafter the dying monster made.
+His wond'ring fellow-huntsmen thanks to Sir Siegfried paid.
+
+Then one upon another a buffalo, an elk
+He slew, four strong ureoxen, and last a savage shelk.
+No beast, how swift soever, could leave his steed behind;
+Scarcely their speed could profit the flying hart or hind
+ . . . . . . .
+They heard then all about them, throughout those forest grounds,
+Such shouting and such baying of huntsmen and of hounds,
+That hill and wood re-echoed with the wild uproar.
+Th' attendants had uncoupled four and twenty dogs or more.
+
+Then full many a monster was doom'd his last to groan.
+They thought with glad expectance to challenge for their own
+The praise for the best hunting; but lower sunk their pride,
+When to the tryst-fire shortly they saw Sir Siegfried ride.
+
+The hunting now was over for the most part at least;
+Game was brought in plenty and skins of many a beast
+To the place of meeting, and laid the hearth before.
+Ah! to the busy kitchen what full supplies they bore!
+. . . . . . . . . . . . .
+
+The chase being done, the hunters are summoned to a feast in a
+neighboring glade. Here, though they are served with a profusion
+of sumptuous viands, there is, according to Hagen's plot, no wine
+to drink. When, toward the end of the meal Siegfried is tormented
+with thirst, Hagen tells him of a cool runnel near by under a
+linden, and proposes that he and Gunther and Siegfried shall try
+a race to this brook. Siegfried gaily consents, and boasts that
+he will run with all his clothing and his weapons upon him.
+
+
+Stanzas 1005-1029.
+King Gunther and Sir Hagan to strip were nothing slow;
+Both for the race stood ready in shirts as white as snow.
+Long bounds, like two wild panthers o'er the grass they took,
+But seen was noble Siegfried before them at the brook.
+
+Whate'er he did, the warrior high o'er his fellows soar'd.
+Now laid he down his quiver, and quick ungirt his sword.
+Against the spreading linden he lean'd his mighty spear.
+So by the brook stood waiting the chief without a peer.
+
+In every lofty virtue none with Sir Siegfried vied.
+Down he laid his buckler by the water's side.
+For all the thirst that parch'd him, one drop he never drank
+Till the king had finished; he had full evil thank.
+
+Cool was the little runnel, and sparkled clear as glass.
+O'er the rill king Gunther knelt down upon the grass.
+When he his draught had taken, he rose and stepp'd aside.
+Full fain alike would Siegfried his thirst have satisfied.
+
+Dear paid he for his courtesy; his bow, his matchless blade,
+His weapons all, Sir Hagan far from their lord convey'd,
+Then back sprung to the linden to seize his ashen spear,
+And to find out the token survey'd his vesture near;
+
+Then, as to drink Sir Siegfried down kneeling there he found,
+He pierc'd him through the croslet, that sudden from the wound
+Forth the life-blood spouted e'en o'er his murderer's weed.
+Never more will warrior dare so foul a deed.
+
+Between his shoulders sticking he left the deadly spear.
+Never before Sir Hagan so fled for ghastly fear,
+As from the matchless champion whom he had butcher'd there.
+Soon as was Sir Siegfried of the mortal wound aware,
+
+Up he from the runnel started, as he were wood
+Out from betwixt his shoulders his own hugh boar-spear stood.
+He thought to find his quiver or his broadsword true.
+The traitor for his treason had then receiv'd his due.
+
+But, ah! the deadly-wounded nor sword nor quiver found;
+His shield alone beside him lay there upon the ground.
+This from the bank he lifted and straight at Hagan ran;
+Him could not then by fleetness escape king Gunther's man.
+
+E'en to the death though wounded, he hurl'd it with such power,
+That the whirling buckler scatter'd wide a shower
+Of the most precious jewels, then straight in shivers broke.
+Full gladly had the warrior then vengeance with that stroke.
+
+E'en as it was, his manhood fierce Hagan level'd low.
+Loud, all around, the meadow rang with the wondrous blow.
+Had he in hand good Balmung, the murderer he had slain.
+His wound was sore upon him; he writh'd in mortal pain;
+
+His lively colour faded; a cloud came o'er his sight:
+He could stand no longer; melted all his might;
+In his paling visage the mark of death he bore.
+Soon many a lovely lady sorrow'd for him sore.
+
+So the lord of Kriemhild among the flowerets fell.
+From the wound fresh gushing his heart's blood fast did well.
+Then thus amidst his tortures, e'en with his failing breath,
+The false friends he upbraided who had contriv'd his death.
+
+Thus spake the deadly-wounded, "Ay! cowards false as hell!
+To you I still was faithful; I serv'd you long and well;
+But what boots all?--for guerdon treason and death I've won.
+By your friends, vile traitors! foully have you done.
+
+Whoever shall hereafter from your loins be born,
+Shall take from such vile fathers a heritage of scorn.
+On me you have wreak'd malice where gratitude was due.
+With shame shall you be banish'd by all good knights and true."
+
+Thither ran all the warriors where in his blood he lay.
+To many of that party sure it was a joyless day.
+Whoever were true and faithful, they sorrow'd for his fall.
+So much the peerless champion had merited of all.
+
+With them the false king Gunther bewept his timeless end.
+Then spake the deadly-wounded; "little it boots your friend
+Yourself to plot his murder, and then the deed deplore.
+Such is a shameful sorrow; better at once it were o'er."
+
+Then spake the low'ring Hagan, "I know not why you moan.
+Our cares all and suspicions are now for ever flown.
+Who now are left, against us who'll dare to make defence?
+Well's me, for all this weeping, that I have rid him hence."
+
+"Small cause hast thou," said Siegfried, "to glory in my fate.
+Had I ween'd thy friendship cloak'd such murderous hate,
+From such as thou full lightly could I have kept my life.
+Now grieve I but for Kriemhild, my dear, my widow'd wife.
+. . . . . . . . .
+Then further spake the dying, and speaking sigh'd full deep,
+"Oh king! if thou a promise with any one wilt keep,
+Let me in this last moment thy grace and favour find
+For my dear love and lady, the wife I leave behind.
+
+Remember, she's thy sister, yield her a sister's right,
+Guard her with faith and honour, as thou'rt a king and knight.
+My father and my followers for me they long must wait.
+Comrade ne'er found from comrade so sorrowful a fate."
+
+In his mortal anguish he writh'd him to and fro,
+And then said, deadly groaning, "this foul and murderous blow
+Deep will ye rue hereafter; this for sure truth retain,
+That in slaying Siegfried you yourselves have slain."
+
+With blood were all bedabbled the flowerets of the field.
+Some time with death he struggled, as though he scorn'd to yield
+E'en to the foe, whose weapon strikes down the loftiest head.
+At last prone in the meadow lay mighty Siegfried dead.
+
+
+They carry the body of Siegfried back to Worms, and lay it at
+Kriemhild's door. Here she finding it next morning. She has it
+carried to the church and stands by it while the heroes come to
+view it, expecting to discover the murderer.
+
+
+KRIEMHILD'S TEST.
+Stanza 1071-1078.
+
+And now the night was over; forth peep'd the morning fair;
+Straight had the noble lady thence to the minster bear
+The matchless champion Siegfried, her husband lov'd so dear.
+All her friends close follow'd with many a sigh and tear.
+
+When they the minster enter'd, how many a bell was rung!
+How many a priest on all sides the mournful requiem sung!
+Then thither with his meiny came Dancrat's haughty son,
+And thither too grim Hagan; it had been better left undone.
+
+Then spoke the king, "dear sister, woe worth this loss of thine!
+Alas that such misfortune has happ'd to me and mine!
+For sure the death of Siegfried we ever both must rue."
+"Nay", said the mournful lady, "so without cause you do,
+
+For if you really rued it, never had it been.
+I know, you have your sister forgotten quite and clean,
+So I and my beloved were parted as you see.
+Good God! would he had granted the stroke had fall'n on me!"
+
+Firmly they made denial; Kriemhild at once replied,
+"Whoe'er in this is guiltless, let him this proof abide.
+In sight of all the people let him approach the bier,
+And so to each beholder shall the plain truth appear."
+
+It is a mighty marvel, which oft e'en now we spy,
+That when the blood-stain'd murderer comes to the murder'd nigh,
+The wounds break out a-bleeding; then too the same befell,
+And thus could each beholder the guilt of Hagan tell.
+
+The wounds at once burst streaming fast as they did before;
+Those, who then sorrow'd deeply, now yet lamented more.
+Then outspake king Gunther, "I give you here to know,
+He was slain by robbers; Hagan struck ne'er a blow."
+
+"Ay! well know I those robbers," his widow'd sister said;
+"By the hands of his true comrades may God revenge the dead!
+False Gunther, and false Hagan! 't was you, your friend that
+slew."
+Thereat the knights of Siegfried grip'd to their swords anew.
+
+
+After the burial of Siegfried, Kriemhild decides to remain at the
+court of Gunther, in the care of her brothers. Thither is brought
+the enormous treasures of the Niebelungen, which Siegfried had
+won, and of which he had been the guardian, and which now fell to
+Kriemhild. The crafty Hagen gains possession of this horde, and
+conceals it by sinking it in the Rhine, hoping some day to
+recover and enjoy it. For thirteen years Kriemhild remains at the
+court of her brother, brooding over her wrongs and meditating
+revenge.  The second part of the poem begins by telling how
+Etzel, king of the Huns, proposed for the hand of the widowed
+Kriemhild, and how she finally, hoping to use him in her plan of
+vengeance, consents to a marriage with him and goes away with
+him into his land. Here for many years she lives the beloved
+queen of the Huns. But her purpose of vengeance never falters,
+and at last she persuades Etzel to invite her brothers to his
+court on a visit. Against many forebodings and warnings they
+come, Hagen with them. After numerous interesting episodes upon
+the journey, they arrive at Etzell's court and are handsomely
+welcomed. But the inevitable quarrel soon breaks out and a
+desperate fight begins. After a most desperate and bloody
+struggle, Gunther, Hagen, and a few followers are shut up in a
+hall. To this Kriemhild sets fire.
+
+
+THE BURNING OF THE HALL.
+Stanza, 2186-2194.
+
+With that, the wife of Etzel had set the hall on fire.
+How sore then were they tortur'd in burning anguish dire!
+At once, as the wind freshen'd, the house was in a glow.
+Never, I ween, were mortals in such extremes of woe.
+
+"We all are lost together," each to his neighbour cried,
+"It had been far better we had in battle died.
+Now God have mercy on us! woe for this fiery pain!
+Ah! what a monstrous vengeance the bloody queen has ta'en!"
+
+Then faintly said another, "needs must we here fall dead;
+What boots us now the greeting, to us by Etzel sped?
+Ah me! I'm so tormented by thirst from burning heat,
+That in this horrid anguish my life must quickly fleet."
+
+Thereat outspake Sir Hagan, the noble knight and good,
+"Let each, by thirst tormented, take here a draught of blood.
+In such a heat, believe me, 't is better far than wine.
+Nought's for the time so fitting; such counsel, friends, is
+mine."
+
+With that straight went a warrior, where a warm corpse he found.
+On the dead down knelt he; his helmet he unbound;
+Then greedily began he to drink the flowing blood.
+However unaccustom'd, it seem'd him passing good.
+
+"Now God requite thee, Hagan," the weary warrior cried,
+"For such refreshing beverage by your advice supplied.
+It has been my lot but seldom to drink of better wine.
+For life am I thy servant for this fair hint of thine."
+
+When th' others heard and witness'd with that delight he quaff'd,
+Yet many more among them drank too the bloody draught.
+It strung again their sinews, and failing strength renew'd.
+This in her lover's person many a fair lady rued.
+
+Into the hall upon them the fire-flakes thickly fell;
+These with their shields they warded warily and well.
+With smoke and heat together they were tormented sore.
+Never, I ween, good warriors such burning anguish bore.
+
+Through smoke and flame cried Hagan, "stand close against the
+wall;
+Let not the burning ashes on your helm-laces fall.
+Into the blood yet deeper tread every fiery flake.
+In sooth, this feast of Kriemhild's is ghastly merry-make."
+
+One by one the champions fall, until only Hagen and Gunther,
+exhausted with fighting, are left to contend with Dietrich, the
+most Valisntof Etzel's vassals. The conclusion of the poem tells
+of the fate of Hagen, Gunther, and Kriemhild.
+
+
+THE FALL OF THE NIEBELUNGEN.
+Stanza 2428-2459.
+
+Well knew the noble Dietrich how fierce and fell a knight
+Was standing now against him; so warily the fight
+'Gainst those tempestuous swordstrokes wag'd the good lord of
+Bern.
+The strength and skill of Hagan he had not now to learn.
+
+He fear'd too, mighty Balmung as down it swept amain;
+Yet at times Sir Dietrich with craft would strike again,
+Till that to sink before him he brought his foeman strong;
+A fearful wound, he gave him that was both deep and long.
+
+Sir Dietrich then bethought him, "thou'rt faint and ill bestead
+I should win little worship, were I to strike thee dead.
+I'll make a different trial, if thou can'st now be won
+By main force for a pris'ner." With wary heed 't was done.
+
+Down he threw his buckler; wondrous was his might;
+He his arms resistless threw round Trony's knight.
+So was by his stronger the main of strength subdued.
+Thereat the noble Gunther remain'd in mournful mood.
+
+His vanquish'd foe Sir Dietrich bound in a mighty band,
+And led him thence to Kriemhild, and gave into her hand
+The best and boldest champion that broadsword ever bore.
+She after all her anguish felt comfort all the more.
+
+For joy the queen inclin'd her before the welcome guest;
+"Sir knight I in mind and body heaven keep thee ever blest!
+By thee all my long sorrows are shut up in delight.
+Even if death prevent not, thy service I'll requite."
+
+"Fair and noble Kriemhild," thus Sir Dietrich spake,
+"Spare this captive warrior, who full amends will make
+For all his past transgressions; him here in bonds you see;
+Revenge not on the fetter'd th' offences of the free."
+
+With that she had Sir Hagan to durance led away,
+Where no one could behold him, where under lock he lay.
+Meanwhile the fierce king Gunther shouted loud and strong,
+"Whither is gone the Berner? he hath done me grievous wrong."
+
+Straight, at the call, to meet him Sir Dietrich swiftly went.
+Huge was the strength of Gunther, and deadly his intent.
+There he no longer dallied; from th' hall he forward ran;
+Sword clash'd with sword together, as man confronted man.
+
+Howe'er renown'd was Dietrich, and train'd in combat well,
+Yet Gunther fought against him so furious and so fell,
+And bore him hate so deadly, now friendless left and lone,
+It seemed past all conceiving, how Dietrich held his own.
+
+Both were of mighty puissance, and neither yielded ground;
+Palace and airy turret rung with their strokes around,
+As their swift swords descending their temper'd helmets hew'd
+Well there the proud king Gunther display'd his manly mood.
+
+Yet him subdued the Berner, as Hagan erst befell;
+Seen was the blood of the warrior forth through his mail to well
+Beneath the fatal weapon that Dietrich bore in fright.
+Tir'd as he was, still Gunther had kept him like a knight.
+
+So now at length the champion was bound by Dietrich there,
+How ill soe'er it fitteth a king such bonds to bear.
+Gunther and his fierce liegeman if he had left unbound,
+He ween'd they'd deal destruction on all, whome'er they found.
+
+Then by the hand Sir Dietrich took the champion good.
+And in his bonds thence led him to where fair Kriemhild stood.
+She cried, "thou'rt welcome, Gunther, hero of Burgundy."
+"Now God requite you, Kriemhild, if you speak lovingly."
+
+Said he, "I much should thank you, and justly, sister dear,
+If true affection prompted the greeting which I hear;
+But, knowing your fierce temper, proud queen, too well I see,
+Such greeting is a mocking of Hagan and of me."
+
+Then said the noble Berner, "high-descended dame,
+Ne'er have been brought to bondage knights of such peerless fame,
+As those, whom you, fair lady, now from your servant take.
+Grant these forlorn and friendless fair treatment for my sake."
+
+She said she fain would do so; then from the captive pair
+With weeping eyes Sir Dietrich retir'd and left them there.
+Straight a bloody vengeance wreak'd Etzell's furious wife
+On those redoubted champions, and both bereft of life.
+
+In dark and dismal durance them kept apart the queen,
+So that from that hour neither was by the other seen,
+Till that at last to Hagan her brother's head she bore.
+On both she took with vengeance as tongue ne'er told before.
+
+To the cell of Hagan eagerly she went;
+Thus the knight bespake she, ah! with what fell intent!
+"Wilt thou but return me what thou from me hast ta'en,
+Back thou may'st go living to Burgundy again."
+
+Then spake grim-visag'd Hagan, "you throw away your prayer,
+High-descended lady; I took an oath whilere,
+That, while my lords were living, or of them only one,
+I'd ne'er point out the treasure; thus 't will be given to none."
+
+Well knew the subtle Hagan, she ne'er would let him 'scape.
+Ah! when did ever falsehood assume so foul a shape?
+He fear'd, that, soon as ever the queen his life had ta'en,
+She then would send her brother to Rhineland back again.
+
+"I'll make an end, and quickly," Kriemhild fiercely spake.
+Her brother's life straight had she in his dungeon take.
+Off his head was smitten; she bore it by the hair
+To the lord of Trony; such sight he well could spare.
+
+A while in gloomy sorrow he view'd his master's head;
+Then to remorseless Kriemhild thus the warrior said;
+"E'en to thy wish this business thou to an end hast brought,
+To such an end, moreover, as Hagan ever thought.
+
+Now the brave king Gunther of Burgundy is dead
+Young Giselher and eke Gernot alike with him are sped;
+So now, where lies the treasure, none knows save God and me,
+And told shall it be never, be sure, she-fiend! to thee."
+
+Said she, "ill hast thou quitted a debt so deadly scor'd;
+At least in my possession I'll keep my Siegfried's sword.
+My lord and lover bore it, when last I saw him go.
+For him woe wring my bosom, that pass'd all other woe."
+
+Forth from the sheath she drew it; that could not be prevent;
+At once to slay the champion was Kriemhild's stern intent.
+High with both hands she heav'd it, and off his head did smite.
+That was seen of king Etzel; he shudder'd at the sight.
+
+"Ah!" cried the prince impassion'd, "harrow and welaway!
+That the hand of a woman the noblest knight should slay,
+That e'er struck stroke in battle, or ever buckler bore!
+Albeit I was his foeman, needs must I sorrow sore."
+
+Then said the aged Hildebrand, "let not her boast of gain,
+In that by her contrivance this noble chief was slain.
+Though to sore strait he brought me, let ruin on me light,
+But I will take full vengeance for Trony's murdered knight."
+
+Hildebrand the aged fierce on Kriemhild sprung:
+To the death he smote her as his sword he swung.
+Sudden and remorseless he his wrath did wreak.
+What could then avail her her fearful thrilling shriek?
+
+There now the dreary corpses stretch'd all around were seen;
+There lay, hewn in pieces, the fair and noble queen.
+Sir Dietrich and king Etzel, their tears began to start;
+For kinsmen and for vassals each sorrow'd in his heart.
+
+The mighty and the noble there lay together dead;
+For this had all the people dole and drearihead.
+The feast of royal Etzel was thus shut up in woe.
+Pain in the steps of Pleasure treads ever here below.
+
+'Tis more than I can tell you what afterwards befell,
+Save that there was weeping for friends belov'd so well;
+Knights and squires, dames and damsels, were seen lamenting all,
+So here I end my story. This is THE NIBELUNGERS' FALL.
+
+--Tr. by Littsom.
+
+
+ROMANCES.
+
+As elsewhere in Europe, the twelfth and thirteenth centuries in
+Germany produced numberless romances. These may be classed under
+(1) Romances of Arthur, (2) Romances of the Holy Graal, (3)
+Romances of Antiquity, and (4) Romances of Love and Chivalry. The
+chief poets of romances were Hartmann von Aue, Gottfried von
+Strassburg, and Wolfram von Eschenbach.  A good example of the
+romance of love is "Der Arme Heinrich of Hartmann von Aue". "Poor
+Henry", to quote Scherer, "is a kind of Job, a man of noble
+birth; rich, handsome, and beloved, who is suddenly visited by
+God with the terrible affliction of leprosy, and who can be cured
+only by the lifeblood of a young maiden who is willing to die for
+him. The daughter of a peasant, to whose house he has retired in
+his despair, resolves to sacrifice her life for him. Heinrich
+accepts her offer, and the knife to kill her is already whetted,
+when a better feeling arises in his breast, and he refuses to
+take upon himself the guilt of her death, resolving to resign
+himself to the will of God. This resignation saves him; he
+recovers and marries the maiden." Our extracts are from the first
+and last of the poem.
+
+
+HENRY THE LEPER.
+Ll. 1-131.--
+
+Once on a time, rhymeth the rhyme,
+In Swabia land once on a time,
+There was a nobleman so journeying,
+Unto whose nobleness everything
+Of virtue and high-hearted excellence
+Worthy his line and his high pretense
+With plentiful measure was meted out:
+The land rejoiced in him round about.
+He was like a prince in his governing--
+In his wealth he was like a king;
+But most of all by the fame far-flown
+Of his great knightliness was he known,
+North and south, upon land and sea.
+By his name he was Henry of the Lea.
+All things whereby the truth grew dim
+Were held as hateful foes with him:
+By solemn oath was he bounden fast
+To shun them while his life should last.
+In honour all his days went by:
+Therefore his soul might look up high
+To honorable authority.
+
+A paragon of all graciousness,
+A blossoming branch of youthfulness,
+A looking-glass to the world around,
+A stainless and priceless diamond,
+Of gallant 'haviour a beautiful wreath,
+A home when the tyrant menaceth,
+A buckler to the breast of his friend,
+And courteous without measure or end;
+Whose deeds of arms 'twere long to tell;
+Of precious wisdom a limpid well,
+A singer of ladies every one,
+And very lordly to look upon
+In feature and hearing and countenance:
+Say, failed he in anything, perchance,
+The summit of all glory to gain.
+And the lasting honour of all men.
+
+Alack! the soul that was up so high
+Dropped down into pitiful misery;
+The lofty courage was stricken low,
+The steady triumph stumbled in woe,
+And the world-joy was hidden in the dust,
+Even as all such shall be and must.
+He whose life in the senses centreth
+Is already in the shades of death.
+The joys, called great, of this under-state
+Burn up the bosom early and late;
+And their shining is altogether vain,
+For it bringeth anguish and trouble and pain,
+The torch that flames for men to see
+And wasteth to ashes inwardly
+Is verily but an imaging
+Of man's own life, the piteous thing.
+The whole is brittleness and mishap:
+We sit and dally in Fortune's lap
+Till tears break in our smiles betwixt,
+And the shallow honey-draught be mix'd
+With sorrow's wormwood fathom-deep.
+Oh! rest not therefore, man, nor sleep:
+In the blossoming of thy flower-crown
+A sword is raised to smite thee down.
+
+It was thus with Earl Henry, upon whom for his pride God sent a
+leprosy, as He did upon Job. But he did not bear his affliction
+as did Job.
+
+Its duteousness his heart forgot;
+His pride waxed hard, and kept its place,
+But the glory departed from his face,
+And that which was his strength, grew weak.
+The hand that smote him on the cheek
+Was all too heavy. It was night,
+Now, and his sun withdrew its light.
+To the pride of his uplifted thought
+Much woe the weary knowledge brought
+That the pleasant way his feet did wend
+Was all passed o'er and had an end.
+The day wherein his years had begun
+Went in his mouth with a malison.
+As the ill grew stronger and more strong,--
+There was but hope bore him along;
+Even yet to hope he was full fain
+That gold might help him back again
+Thither whence God had cast him out.
+Ah! weak to strive and little stout
+'Gainst Heaven the strength that he possessed.
+North and south and east and west,
+Far and wide from every side,
+Mediciners well proved and tried
+Came to him at the voice of his woe;
+But, mused and pondered they ever so,
+They could but say, for all their care,
+That he must be content to bear
+The burthen of the anger of God;
+For him there was no other road.
+Already was his heart nigh down
+When yet to him one chance was shown;
+For in Salerno dwelt, folk said,
+A leach who still might lend him aid,
+Albeit unto his body's cure,
+All such had been as nought before.
+
+Earl Henry visits the leach in Salerno whom he implores to tell
+him the means by which he may be healed.
+
+Quoth the leach, "Then know them what they are;
+Yet still all hope must stand afar.
+Truly if the cure for your care
+Might be gotten anyway anywhere,
+Did it hide in the furthest parts of earth,
+This-wise I had not sent you forth.
+But all my knowledge hath none avail;
+There is but one thing would not fail:
+An innocent virgin for to find,
+Chaste, and modest, and pure in mind,
+Who to save you from death might choose
+Her own young body's life to lose;
+The heart's blood of the excellent maid--
+That and nought else can be your aid.
+But there is none will be won thereby
+For the love of another's life to die.
+
+"'T was then poor Henry knew indeed
+That from his ill he might not be freed,
+Sith that no woman he might win
+Of her own will to act herein.
+Thus got he but an ill return
+For the journey he made unto Salerne,
+And the hope he had upon that day
+Was snatched from him and rent away.
+Homeward he hied him back: fall fain
+With limbs in the dust he would have lain.
+Of his substance--lands and riches both--
+He rid himself; even as one doth
+Who the breath of the last life of his hope
+Once and forever hath rendered up.
+To his friends he gave and to the poor,
+Unto God praying evermore
+The spirit that was in him to save,
+And make his bed soft in the grave.
+What still remained aside he set
+For Holy Church's benefit.
+Of all that heretofore was his
+Nought held he for himself, I wis,
+Save one small house with byre and field:
+There from the world he lived concealed,--
+There lived he, and awaited Death,
+Who being awaited, lingereth.
+Pity and ruth his troubles found
+Alway through all the country round.
+Who heard him named, had sorrow deep
+And for his piteous sake would weep.
+
+The poor man who tilled Earl Henry's field had a daughter, a
+sweet and tender maiden who, out of love for Henry and a heart of
+Christ-like pity, at last offers herself to die for him. After a
+struggle Henry accepts the sacrifice. But when he knows it is
+about to be made his heart rises against it and he refuses to
+permit it. At this the maiden is much grieved. She takes it as a
+token that she is not pure enough to be offered for him. She
+prays for a sign that she may hope to become wholly cleansed. In
+answer to this prayer Earl Henry is in one night cleansed of the
+leprosy. He then joyfully takes the maiden for his bride and
+leads her before his kinsman and nobles for their consent.
+
+"Then," quoth the Earl, "hearken me this.
+The damozel who standeth here,--
+And whom I embrace, being most dear,--
+She it is unto whom I owe
+The grace it hath pleased God to bestow.
+He saw the simple spirited
+Earnestness of the holy maid,
+And even in guerdon of her truth
+Gave me back the joys of my youth,
+Which seemed to be lost beyond all doubt,
+And therefore I have chosen her out
+To wed with me knowing her free.
+I think that God will let this be.
+Lo! I enjoin ye, with God's will
+That this my longing ye fulfill.
+I pray ye all have but one voice
+And let your choice go with my choice."
+
+Then the cries ceased, and the counter-cries,
+And all the battle of advice,
+And every lord, being content
+With Henry's choice, granted assent.
+
+Then the priests came to bind as one
+Two lives in bridal unison,
+Into his hand they folded hers,
+Not to be loosed in coming years,
+And uttered between man and wife
+God's blessing on the road of this life.
+Many a bright and pleasant day
+The twain pursued their steadfast way,
+Till hand in hand, at length they trod
+Upward to the kingdom of God.
+Even as it was with them, even thus,
+And quickly, it must be with us.
+To such reward as theirs was then,
+God help us in His hour. Amen.
+
+-- Tr. by Rossetti.
+
+
+THE MINNESINGERS.
+
+In the twelfth century, Germany had a remarkable outburst of
+lyric poetry, chiefly songs of love. The influence of the
+crusades, the spread of the romances of Arthur and Charlemagne
+roused over all Germany the spirit of poetry. The poets of this
+new movement are called Minnesingers. It is interesting to notice
+that the same poets who wrote these love lyrics, wrote also long
+romances of chivalry; the greatest names among them being
+Hartmann von Aue, Wolfram von Eschenbach, Heinrich von
+Ofterdingen, Gottfried von Strassburg, and Walther von der
+Vogelweide. They were of all ranks, but chiefly belonged to the
+upper classes--knights, squires, princes, and even kings being
+numbered among them. Their extraordinarily large number may be
+gathered from the fact that from the twelfth century alone the
+names of one hundred and sixty Minnesingers have come down to us.
+Their names and their songs have been handed down largely by
+tradition, since the mass of them could neither read nor write,
+and for a century or more their work was preserved orally.
+
+The subject of these songs was almost always love--generally love
+of a sweetheart; sometimes of the simpler aspects of nature,
+sometimes the love of the Virgin. Besides this they wrote also
+many didactic, religious, and patriotic songs. The rhythmical and
+metrical structure of their verse was very complicated and
+generally very skillful, sometimes, however, running into
+eccentricities and barren technicalities. The Minnesinger
+generally composed the music of his song at the same time with
+the verse.
+
+The bloom of the Minnesong passed away in the latter half of the
+thirteenth century. The songs became theological, didactic,
+political, more and more forced and complicated in form, more and
+more filled with quaint new figures, far-fetched conceits, and
+obscure allusions. Then gradually developed the school of the
+Meistersingers, who formed themselves into a guild of poets to
+which only those were admitted who passed examination upon the
+difficult technical rules that had been built up. The poetry of
+the Meistersinigers was, for the most part, tedious and
+artificial. The poets were not nobles and soldiers, but burghers
+and artisans. They reached their highest development in the
+sixteenth century. The most famous of them was Hans Sachs
+(1494-1575), who, in the space of fifty-three years, wrote 6181
+pieces of verse.
+
+
+DIETMAR VON AIST.  Twelfth Century.
+
+By the heath stood a lady
+  All lonely and fair;
+As she watched for her lover,
+  A falcon flew near.
+"Happy falcon!" she cried
+  "Who can fly where he list,
+And can choose in the forest
+  The tree he loves best!
+
+"Thus, too, had I chosen
+  One knight for mine own,
+Him my eye had selected,
+  Him prized I alone:
+But other fair ladies
+  Have envied my joy,
+And why? for I sought not
+  Their bliss to destroy.
+
+"As to thee, lovely summer,
+  Returns the birds' strain,
+As on yonder green linden
+  The leaves spring again,
+So constant doth grief
+  At my eyes overflow,
+And wilt not thou, dearest,
+  Return to me now?"
+
+
+  "Yes, come, my own hero,
+  All others desert!
+When first my eye saw thee,
+  How graceful thou wert;
+How fair was thy presence,
+  How graceful, how bright!
+Then think of me only,
+  My own chosen knight!"
+   . . . . . .
+There sat upon the linden-tree
+  A bird and sang its strain;
+So sweet it sang, that, as I heard,
+  My heart went back again:
+It went to one remembered spot,
+  I saw the rose-trees grow,
+And thought again the thoughts of love
+  There cherished long ago.
+
+A thousand years to me it seems
+  Since by my fair I sat,
+Yet thus to have been a stranger long
+  Was not my choice, but fate:
+Since then I have not seen the flowers,
+  Nor heard the birds' sweet song;
+My joys have all too briefly passed,
+  My griefs been all too long.
+
+--Tr. by Taylor.
+
+
+WALTHER VON DER VOGELWEIDE.  Early nineteenth Century.
+UNDER THE LINDEN.
+
+  Under the linden
+  On the meadow
+Where our bed arrange'd was,
+  There now you may find e'en
+  In the shadow Broken flowers and crushe'd grass.
+Near the woods, down in the vale
+  Tandaradi!
+Sweetly sang the nightingale.
+
+  I, poor sorrowing one,
+  Came to the prairie,
+Look, my lover had gone before.
+  There he received me--
+  Gracious Mary!--
+That now with bliss I am brimming o'er.
+Kissed he me? Ah, thousand hours!
+  Tandaradi!
+See my mouth, how red it flowers!
+
+  Then 'gan he making
+  Oh! so cheery,
+From flowers a couch most rich outspread.
+  At which outbreaking
+  In laughter merry
+You'll find, whoe'er the path does tread.
+  By the rose he can see
+  Tandaradi!
+Where my head lay cozily.
+
+  How he caressed me
+  Knew it one ever
+God defend! ashamed I'd be.
+  Whereto he pressed me
+  No, no, never
+Shall any know it but him and me
+And a birdlet on the tree
+  Tandaradi!
+Sure we can trust it, cannot we?
+
+--Tr. by Kroeger.
+
+
+FROM THE CRUSADERS' HYMN.
+
+Sweet love of Holy Spirit
+Direct sick mind and steer it,
+God, who the first didst rear it,
+  Protect thou Christendom.
+  It lies of pleasure barren
+No rose blooms more in Sharon;
+Comfort of all th' ill-starren,
+  Oh! help dispel the gloom!
+Keep, Savior, from all ill us!
+We long for the bounding billows,
+Thy Spirit's love must thrill us,
+  Repentant hearts' true friend.
+Thy blood for us thou'st given,
+Unlocked the gates of heaven.
+Now strive we as we've striven
+  To gain the blessed land.
+Our wealth and blood grows thinner;
+God yet will make us winner
+Gainst him, who many a sinner
+  Holds pawne'd in his hand.
+. . . . . . . . .
+God keep thy help us sending,
+With thy right hand aid lending,
+Protect us till the ending
+  When at last our soul us leaves,
+From hell-fires, flaming clamor
+Lest we fall 'neath the hammer!
+Too oft we've heard with tremor,
+How pitiably it grieves
+The land so pure and holy
+All helplessly and fearfully!
+  Jerusalem, weep lowly,
+That thou forgotten art!
+The heathen's boastful glory
+Put thee in slavery hoary.
+Christ, by thy name's proud story
+  In mercy take her part!
+And help those sorely shaken
+Who treaties them would maken
+That we may not be taken
+  And conquered at the start.
+
+-- Tr. by Kroeger.
+
+
+When from the sod the flowerets spring,
+  And smile to meet the sun's bright ray,
+ When birds their sweetest carols sing,
+  In all the morning pride of May,
+ What lovelier than the prospect there?
+ Can earth boast any thing more fair?
+ To me it seems an almost heaven,
+So beauteous to my eyes that vision bright is given.
+
+But when a lady chaste and fair,
+  Noble, and clad in rich attire,
+ Walks through the throng with gracious air,
+  As sun that bids the stars retire,
+ Then, where are all thy boastings, May?
+ What hast thou beautiful and gay,
+ Compared with that supreme delight?
+We leave thy loveliest flowers, and watch that lady bright.
+
+Wouldst thou believe me,--come and place
+  Before thee all this pride of May;
+Then look but on my lady's face,
+ And which is best and brightest say:
+  For me, how soon (if choice were mine)
+  This would I take, and that resign,
+  And say, "Though sweet thy beauties, May,
+I'd rather forfeit all than lose my lady gay!"
+
+--Tr. by Taylor.
+
+
+The Minnesingers wrote many songs in praise of the Virgin. She
+was the embodiment of pure womanhood, their constant object of
+devotion. The following extracts are taken from a hymn to the
+Virgin, formerly attributed to Gottfried von Strassburg. It is
+one of the greatest of the Minnesongs. It consists of
+ninety-three stanzas, of which six are given.
+
+Stanza 1.--
+Ye who your life would glorify
+And float in bliss to God on high,
+  There to dwell nigh
+His peace and love's salvation;
+Who fain would learn how to enroll
+All evil under your control,
+  And rid your soul
+Of many a sore temptation;
+Give heed unto this song of love,
+And follow its sweet story.
+Then will its passing sweetness prove
+Unto your hearts a winge'd dove
+  And upward move
+Your souls to bliss and glory.
+
+Stanza 12.--
+Ye fruitful heavens, from your ways
+Bend down to hear the tuneful lays
+  I sing in praise
+Of her, the sainted maiden,
+  Who unto us herself has shown
+A modest life, a crown and throne;
+  Whose love has flown
+O'er many a heart grief-laden.
+Thou too, O Christ, thine ear incline
+  To this my adoration,
+In honor of that mother thine
+Who ever blest must stay and shine,
+  For she's the shrine
+Of God's whole vast creation.
+
+Stanza 19.--
+Thou sheen of flowers through clover place,
+Thou lignum aloe's blooming face,
+  Thou sea of grace,
+Where man seeks blessed landing.
+Thou roof of rapture high and blest,
+Through which no rain has ever passed,
+  Thou goodly rest,
+Whose end is without ending.
+Thou to help-bearing strength a tower
+  Against all hostile evils.
+Thou parriest many a stormy shower
+Which o'er us cast in darkest hour,
+  The hell worm's power
+And other ruthless devils.
+
+Stanza 20.--
+Thou art a sun, a moon, a star,
+'Tis thou can'st give all good and mar,
+  Yea, and debar
+Our enemies' great cunning.
+That power God to thee hath given
+That living light, that light of heaven:
+  Hence see we even
+Thy praise from all lips running.
+Thou' st won the purest, noblest fame,
+In all the earth's long story,
+That e'er attached to worldly name;
+It shineth brightly like a flame;
+  All hearts the same
+Adore its lasting glory.
+
+Stanza 82.--
+To worship, Lady, thee is bliss,
+And fruitful hours ne'er pass amiss
+  To heart that is
+So sweet a guest's host-mansion.
+He who thee but invited hath
+Into his heart's heart love with faith,
+  Must live and bathe
+In endless bliss-expansion.
+To worship thee stirs up in man
+A love now tame, now passion.
+To worship thee doth waken, then
+Love e'en in those love ne'er could gain;
+  Thus now amain
+Shines forth thy love's concession.
+
+From praising Mary, the poet passes to praising Christ.
+
+Stanza 59.--
+Thou cool, thou cold, thou warmth, thou heat,
+Thou rapture's circle's central seat,
+  Who does not meet
+With thee stays dead in sadness;
+Each day to him appears a year,
+Seldom his thoughts wear green bloom's gear;
+  He doth appear
+Forever without gladness.
+Thou art most truly our heart's shine
+Our sun wide joy-inspiring;
+A sweet heart's love for all that pine,
+For all the sad a joyful shrine,
+  A spring divine
+For the thirsty and desiring.
+
+--Tr. by Kroeger.
+
+
+CHAPTER V.  ITALIAN LITERATURE.
+
+There was no folk poetry and no popular literature in Mediaeval
+Italy. There were two reasons for this: (1) Italian history,
+political and intellectual, attaches itself very closely to that
+of Rome. The traditions of classic learning never died out. Hence
+the Italian nation was always too learned, too literary to
+develop a folk literature. (2) Italy was for many centuries
+dominated by ecclesiastical influence, and the people's minds
+were full of matters of religious and scholastic philosophy,
+which excluded art.
+
+The Italians translated and adapted some of the epics, romances,
+and tales of other countries, during the earlier years of the
+Middle Ages; but they were written in Latin, or in a kind of
+French. They produced none of their own. There was no literature
+written in Italian before the thirteenth century.
+
+In the thirteenth century (1250) there came the first outburst of
+Italian literature--religious songs, love songs, dramas, and
+tales. In almost every part of Italy men began to write. But it
+was in Tuscany, in Florence, that the most remarkable literary
+development of this period appeared. It was of the nature chiefly
+of lyric and allegoric poetry. The work of this group of Tuscan
+poets was really the beginning of Italian literary art. Yet it
+was a finished art product, not at all like the beginnings of
+poetry in other countries.
+
+The group numbered a dozen poets of considerable power and skill.
+The greatest of them and the greatest of Italian poets was Dante
+Alighieri. In Italian mediaeval literature three names stand out
+far above all others. They are Dante, Petrarch, and Boccaccio. So
+completely do they overshadow their contemporaries, that in
+making our selection of Italian literature we shall confine
+ourselves entirely to these three.
+
+Dante Alighieri was born at Florence, in May, 1266, and died at
+Ravenna in September, 1321. He had an eventful and pathetic life.
+He was much in public affairs. He was banished from his native
+city in 1302, and died in exile. His literary work is represented
+chiefly by the following titles: "Vita Nuova, The New Life";
+"Convito, The Banquet"; "De Monarchia, A Treatise on Monarchy";
+"De Vulgari Eloquio, A Treatise on the Vulgar Tongue"; and
+"Divina Commedia", his masterpiece and the master-work of the
+Middle Ages.
+
+
+FROM THE VITA NUOVA.
+
+The "Vita Nuova" is a work of Dante's youth, a record of his
+early life and love. The title may be translated either Early
+Life or The New Life. From the nature of the work we may infer
+that the latter translation conveys the poet's thought. It
+implies that after his first sight of Beatrice he began a new
+existence. He saw her first when he was nine years old. Nine
+years later she greeted him for the first time. Inspired by this
+greeting he began the "Vita Nuova".[1] It is written in prose
+interspersed with sonnets and canzoni. We select for reproduction
+some of the sonnets from Rossetti's translation.
+
+[1] When Dante first saw Beatrice she was eight years old. From
+that hour he says he loved her. She was the inspiration of his
+early poem; and afterward, in the Divine Comedy, she became the
+embodiment of his conception of divine wisdom. She was married
+quite young to Simon di Bardi, a citizen of Florence. She died in
+1290, when only twenty-four years old.
+
+
+I. Sonnets telling to other ladies the praise of Beatrice.
+
+   Ladies that have intelligence in love
+   Of mine own lady I would speak with you;
+   Not that I hope to count her praises through,
+   But telling what I may to ease my mind.
+And I declare that when I speak thereof
+Love sheds such perfect sweetness over me
+That if my courage failed not, certainly
+   To him my listeners must be all resign'd.
+   Wherefore I will not speak in such large kind
+That mine own speech should foil me, which were base;
+But only will discourse of her high grace
+  In these poor words, the best that I can find,
+With you alone dear dames and damozels:
+'Twere ill to speak thereof with any else.
+. . . . . . . .
+   My lady is desired in the high Heaven;
+   WHEREFORE, it now behoveth me to tell, saying:
+   Let any maid that would be well
+   Esteemed, keep with her; for as she goes by,
+Into foul hearts a deadly chill is driven
+By Love, that makes ill thoughts to perish there;
+While any who endures to gaze on her
+   Must either be ennobled, or else die.
+   When one deserving to be raised so high
+Is found, It is then her power attains its proof,
+Making his heart strong for his soul's behoof
+   With the full strength of meek humility.
+Also this virtue owns she, by God's will:
+Who speaks with her can never come to ill.
+
+II. On the death of Beatrice.
+
+When mine eyes had wept for some while until they were so weary
+with weeping that I could no longer through them give ease to my
+sorrow, I bethought me that a few mournful words might stand me
+instead of tears. And therefore I proposed to make a poem, that
+weeping I might speak therein of her for whom so much sorrow had
+destroyed my spirit; and I then began:
+
+The eyes that weep for pity of the heart
+Have wept so long that their grief languisheth,
+And they have no more tears to weep withal:
+   And now if I would ease me of a part
+Of what, little by little, leads to death,
+It must be done by speech, or not at all,
+And because often, thinking I recall
+   How it was pleasant ere she went afar,
+   To talk of her with you, kind damozels,
+I talk with no one else,
+But only with such hearts as women's are.
+   And I will say,--still sobbing as speech fails,--
+That she hath gone to Heaven suddenly,
+And hath left Love below, to mourn with me.
+
+
+III.
+
+"Dante once prepared to paint an angel."
+. . . . . . .
+"You and I would rather see that angel
+Painted by the tenderness of Dante,--
+Would we not?--than read a fresh Inferno."
+
+--Browning's "One Word More".
+
+On that day which fulfilled the year since my lady had been made
+of the citizens of eternal life, remembering me of her as I sat
+alone, I betook myself to draw the resemblance of an angel upon
+certain tablets. And while I did thus, chancing to turn my head,
+I perceived that some were standing beside me to whom I should
+have given courteous welcome, and that they were observing what I
+did; also I learned afterwards that they had been there a while
+before I perceived them. Perceiving whom, I arose for salutation
+and said: "Another was with me."
+
+Afterwards, when they had left me, I set myself again to mine
+occupation, to wit, to the drawing figures of angels; in doing
+which, I conceived to write of this matter in rhyme, as for her
+anniversary, and to address my rhymes unto those who had just
+left me. It was then that I wrote the sonnet which saith "That
+Lady":
+
+That lady of all gentle memories
+   Had lighted on my soul; whose new abode
+   Lies now, as it was well ordained of God,
+Among the poor in heart where Mary is.
+Love, knowing that dear image to be his,
+   Woke up within the sick heart sorrow-bowed,
+    Unto the sighs which are its weary load,
+Saying, "Go forth." And they went forth, I wis
+Forth went they from my breast that throbbed and ached;
+   With such a pang as oftentimes will bathe
+   Mine eyes with tears when I am left alone.
+And still those sighs which drew the heaviest breath
+Came whispering thus: "O noble intellect!
+    It is a year to-day that thou art gone."
+
+
+IV. The Close of the Vita Nuova.
+
+Beyond the sphere which spreads to widest space
+   Now soars the sigh that my heart sends above;
+   A new perception born of grieving Love
+Guideth it upward the untrodden ways.
+When it hath reached unto the end and stays,
+   It sees a lady round whom splendors move
+   In homage; till, by the great light thereof
+Abashed, the pilgrim spirit stands at gaze.
+It sees her such, that when it tells me this
+  Which it hath seen, I understand it not;
+   It hath a speech so subtile and so fine
+And yet I know its voice within my thought
+Often remembereth me of Beatrice:
+   So that I understand it, ladies mine.
+
+
+After writing this sonnet, it was given unto me to behold a very
+wonderful vision,[1] wherein I saw things which determined me
+that I would say nothing further of this most blessed one, until
+such time as I could discourse more worthily of her. And to this
+end I labor all I can; as she well knoweth. Wherefore if it be
+His pleasure through whom is the life of all things, that my life
+continue with me a few years, it is my hope that I shall yet
+write concerning her what hath not before been written of any
+woman. After the which may it seem good unto Him who is the
+Master of Grace, that my spirit should go hence to behold the
+glory of its lady: to wit, the blessed Beatrice, who now gazeth
+continually on His countenance qui est per omnia soecula
+benedictus. Laus Deo.[2]
+
+[1] This we may believe to be the vision of Hell, Purgatory, and
+Paradise, the vision which gave him the argument of the Divine
+Comedy.
+
+[2] Who is blessed throughout all ages. Praise to God.
+
+
+
+FROM THE DIVINE COMEDY.[1]
+
+[1] Dante called his poem a comedy, he says, for two reasons:
+because it has a sad beginning and a cheerful ending, and because
+it is written in a "middle" style, treating alike of lowly and
+lofty things. Midway in life the poet finds himself lost in the
+forest of worldly cares, beset by the three beasts, Pride,
+Avarice, and Worldly Pleasure. Virgil, who is the embodiment of
+moral philosophy, appears and leads him through the Hell of
+worldly sin and suffering, through the Purgatory of repentance,
+to the calm of the earthly Paradise. Mere philosophy can go no
+further. The  poet is here taken under the guidance of Beatrice,
+the embodiment of  divine wisdom, who leads him through Paradise
+to the throne of God. Such, in the briefest form, is the argument
+of the Divine Comedy; this statement carries the actual story and
+the allegory side by side.  The first division of the triple
+vision is the Inferno. Dante's Inferno is an inverted cone,
+having its mouth in a deep rugged valley, its sides sloping down
+to the center of the earth. When Lucifer fell from heaven the
+earth retired before him, making this hollow cone. This is
+divided into nine circles, in which the lost souls suffer. These
+souls are grouped into three main classes: the incontinent, the
+violent, and the fraudulent.  The first circle of the Inferno is
+Limbo, where are the souls of children and the unbaptized; of the
+heathen philosophers and poets. They are neither in pain nor
+glory, they do not shriek nor groan but only sigh.
+
+
+I. The Poets in Limbo.--From the Inferno.
+
+Broke the deep slumber in my brain a crash
+Of heavy thunder, that I shook myself,
+As one by main force roused. Risen upright,
+My rested eyes I moved around, and search'd,
+With fixed ken, to know what place it was
+Wherein I stood. For certain, on the brink
+I found me of the lamentable vale,
+The dread abyss, that joins a thundrous sound
+Of plaints innumerable. Dark and deep,
+And thick with clouds o'erspread, mine eye in vain
+Explored its bottom, nor could aught discern.
+   "Now let us to the blind world there beneath
+Descend;" the bard began, all pale of look:
+  "I go the first, and thou shalt follow next."
+   Then I his alter'd hue perceiving, thus:
+   "How may I speed, if thou yieldest to dread,
+Who still art wont to comfort me in doubt?"
+   He then: "The anguish of that race below
+With pity stains my cheek, which thou for fear
+Mistakest. Let us on. Our length of way
+Urges to haste." Onward, this said, he moved;
+And entering led me with him, on the bounds
+Of the first circle that surrounds the abyss.
+. . . . . . . . . .
+     We were not far
+On this side from the summit, when I kenn'd
+A flame, that o'er the darken'd hemisphere
+Prevailing shined. Yet we a little space
+Were distant, not so far but I in part
+Discover'd that a tribe in honour high
+That place possess'd. "O thou, who every art
+And science valuest I who are these that boast
+Such honour, separate from all the rest?"
+  He answer'd: "The renown of their great names,
+That echoes through your world above, acquires
+Favour in heaven, which holds them thus advanced."
+Meantime a voice I heard: "Honour the bard
+Sublime![1] his shade returns, that left us late!
+
+No sooner ceased the sound, than I beheld
+Four mighty spirits toward us bend their steps,
+Of semblance neither sorrowful nor glad.
+  When thus my master kind began: "Mark him,
+Who in his right hand bears that falchion keen,
+The other three preceding, as their lord.
+This is that Homer, of all bards supreme:
+Flaccus the next, in satire's vein excelling;
+The third is Naso; Lucan is the last.
+Because they all that appellation own,
+With which the voice singly accosted me,
+Honouring they greet me thus, and well they judge."
+  So I beheld united the bright school
+Of him the monarch of sublimest song,[2]
+
+That o'er the others like an eagle soars.
+  When they together short discourse had held,
+They turned to me, with salutation kind
+Beckoning me; at the which my master smiled
+Nor was this all; but greater honour still
+They gave me, for they made me of their tribe;
+And I was sixth amid so learn'd a band.
+
+[1] The bard sublime--Virgil.
+
+[2] The monarch of sublimest song--Homer.
+
+
+II. Francesca da Rimini.[1]
+
+[1] Francesca da Polenta was given in marriage by her father to
+Lanclotto da Rimini, a man brave, but of deformed person. His
+brother Paolo, who was exceedingly handsome, won her affections.
+They were both put to death by Lagnciotto.
+
+
+From the Inferno.
+From Limbo the poet descends into the second circle, where the
+sin of lust is punished. The souls in this circle are driven
+forever round in a tyrannous gust of wind. They see Cleopatra and
+Helen and Paris and Tristan and many others whom Virgil names to
+the poet. Finally he sees two spirits approaching, whom he asks
+permission to address. To these he spoke:
+
+"O wearied spirits! come, and hold discourse
+With us, if by none else restrain'd." As doves
+By fond desire invited, on wide wings
+And firm, to their sweet nest returning home,
+Cleave the air, wafted by their will along;
+Thus issued, from that troop where Dido ranks,
+They, through the ill air speeding--with such force
+My cry prevail'd, by strong affection urged.
+  "O gracious creature and benign! who go'st
+Visiting, through this element obscure,
+Us, who the world with bloody stain imbrued;
+If, for a friend, the King of all, we own'd,
+Our prayer to him should for thy peace arise,
+Since thou hast pity on our evil plight.
+Of whatsoe'er to hear or to discourse
+It pleases thee, that will we hear, of that
+Freely with thee discourse, while e'er the wind,
+As now, is mute. The land[1] that gave me birth,
+Is situate on the coast, where Po descends
+To rest in ocean with his sequent streams.
+  "Love, that in gentle heart is quickly learnt,
+Entangled him by that fair form, from me
+Ta'en in such cruel sort, as grieves me still!
+Love, that denial takes from none beloved,
+Caught me with pleasing him so passing well,
+That, as thou seest' he yet deserts me not.
+Love brought us to one death: Caina[2] waits
+The soul, who split our life."
+Such were their words;
+At hearing which, downward I bent my looks,
+And held them there so long, that the bard cried:
+"What art thou pondering?" I in answer thus:
+"Alas I by what sweet thoughts, what fond desire
+Must they at length to that ill pass have reach'd!"
+Then turning, I to them my speech addressed,
+And thus began: "Francesca! your sad fate
+Even to tears my grief and pity moves.
+But tell me; in the time of your sweet sighs,
+By what, and how Love granted, that ye knew
+Your yet uncertain wishes?" She replied:
+"No greater grief than to remember days
+Of joy, when misery is at hand. That kens
+Thy learn'd instructor. Yet so eagerly
+If thou art bent to know the primal root,
+From whence our love gat being, I will do
+As one, who weeps and tells his tale. One day,
+For our delight we read of Lancelot,[3]
+How him love thrall'd. Alone we were, and no
+Suspicion near us. Oft-times by that reading
+Our eyes were drawn together, and the hue
+Fled from our alter'd cheek. But at one point
+Alone we fell. When of that smile we read,
+The wished smile so rapturously kiss'd
+By one so deep in love, then he, who ne'er
+From me shall separate, at once my lips
+All trembling kiss'd. The book and writer both
+Were love's purveyors. In its leaves that day
+We read no more." While thus one spirit spake,
+The other wailed so sorely, that heart-struck
+I, through compassion fainting, seem'd not far
+From death, and like a corse fell to the ground.
+
+[1] The land that gave me birth--Ravenna.
+
+[2] Caina, the place to which murderers are doomed.
+
+[3] Lancelot, one of the knights of the Round Table, the lover of
+Queen Guinevere.
+
+
+III. Farinata.--From the Inferno.
+
+The poet and his guide descend through the third circle where the
+sin of gluttony is punished; through the fourth, where they find
+the prodigal and avaricious; through the fifth where immersed in
+a filthy pool are the souls of the irascible. The sixth circle is
+the city of Dis, with walls of heated iron, filled within with
+open fiery tombs from which issue the groans of the heretics who
+are punished here. With two of these, Farinata degli Uberti[1]
+and Cavaleante Cavaleanti,[2] Dante holds converse.
+
+[1] Farinata degli Uberti, a Florentine of great military
+ability, a leader of the Ghibelline, or imperial, party.
+
+[2] Cavaleante Cavaleanti, a Florentine, of the Guelph, or Papal,
+party.
+
+
+Now by a secret pathway we proceed,
+Between the walls that hem the region round,
+And the tormented souls: my master first,
+I close behind his steps. "Virtue supreme!"
+I thus began: "who through these ample orbs
+In circuit lead'st me, even as thou will'st;
+Speak thou, and satisfy my wish. May those,
+Who lie within these sepulchres, be seen?
+Already all the lids are raised, and none
+O'er them keeps watch." He thus in answer spake:
+"They shall be closed all, what-time they here
+From Josaphat[1] return'd shall come, and bring
+Their bodies, which above they now have left.
+The cemetery on this part obtain,
+With Epicurus, all his followers,
+Who with the body make the spirit die.
+Here therefore satisfaction shall be soon,
+Both to the question ask'd, and to the wish [2]
+Which thou conceal'st in silence." I replied:
+"I keep not, guide beloved I from thee my heart
+Secreted, but to shun vain length of words;
+A lesson erewhile taught me by thyself."
+  "O Tuscan! thou, who through the city of fire
+Alive art passing, so discreet of speech:
+Here, please thee, stay awhile. Thy utterance
+Declares the place of thy nativity
+To be that noble land, with which perchance
+I too severely dealt." Sudden that sound
+Forth issued from a vault, whereat, in fear,
+I somewhat closer to my leader's side
+Approaching, he thus spake: "What dost thou? Turn: Lo!
+Farinata, there, who hath himself
+Uplifted: from his girdle upwards, all
+Exposed, behold him." On his face was mine
+Already fix'd: his breast and forehead there
+Erecting, seem'd as in high scorn he held
+E'en hell. Between the sepulchres, to him
+My guide thrust me, with fearless hands and prompt;
+This warning added: "See thy words be clear."
+  He, soon as there I stood at the tomb's foot,
+Eyed me a space; then in disdainful mood
+Address'd me: "Say what ancestors were thine."
+  I, willing to obey him, straight reveal'd
+The whole, nor kept back aught: whence he, his brow
+Somewhat uplifting, cried: "Fiercely were they
+Adverse to me, my party, and the blood
+From whence I sprang: twice, therefore, I abroad
+Scatter'd them." "Though driven out, yet they each time
+From all parts," answer'd I, "return'd; an art
+Which yours have shown they are not skill'd to learn."
+  Then, peering forth from the unclosed jaw,
+Rose from his side a shade,[3] high as the chin,
+Leaning, methought, upon its knees upraised.
+It look'd around, as eager to explore
+If there were other with me; but perceiving
+That fond imagination quench'd, with tears
+Thus spake: "If thou through this blind prison go'st,
+Led by thy lofty genius and profound,
+Where is my son? and wherefore not with thee?
+  I straight replied: "Not of myself I come;
+By him, who there expects me, through this clime
+Conducted, whom perchance Guido thy son
+Had in contempt."[4] Already had his words
+And mode of punishment read me his name,
+Whence I so fully answer'd. He at once
+Exclaim'd' up starting, "How! said'st thou' he HAD?
+No longer lives he? Strikes not on his eye
+The blessed daylight?" Then, of some delay
+I made ere my reply, aware, down fell
+Supine, nor after forth appear'd he more.
+
+[1] It was a common opinion that the general judgment would be
+held in the valley of Josaphat, or Jehoshaphat. Joel iii., 2.
+
+[2] The wish-Dante's wish was to speak with the followers of
+Epicurus, of whom were Farinata and Cavalcante.
+
+[3] A shade--Cavalcante.
+
+[4] Guido, thy son had in contempt--Guido the son of Cavalcante
+Cavalcanti, a Tuscan poet, the friend of Dante. But being fonder
+of philosophy than of poetry was perhaps not an admirer of
+Virgil.
+
+
+V. The Hypocrites.  From the Inferno.
+
+In the seventh circle, which is divided into three rounds, or
+gironi, the violent are tormented. The eighth circle is divided
+into ten concentric fosses, or gulfs, in each of which some
+variety of fraudulent sinners is punished. In the sixth gulf are
+the hypocrites.
+
+There in the depth we saw a painted tribe,
+Who paced with tardy steps around, and wept,
+Faint in appearance and o'ercome with toil.
+Caps had they on, with hoods, that fell low down
+Before their eyes, in fashion like to those
+Worn by the monks in Cologne.[1]
+Their outside Was overlaid with gold, dazzling to view,
+But leaden all within, and of such weight,
+That Frederick's [2] compared to these were straw.
+Oh, everlasting wearisome attire!
+We yet once more with them together turn'd
+To leftward, on their dismal moan intent.
+But by the weight opprest, so slowly came
+The fainting people, that our company
+Was changed, at every movement of the step.
+  I staid, and saw two spirits in whose look
+Impatient eagerness of mind was mark'd
+To overtake me; but the load they bare
+And narrow path retarded their approach.
+  Soon as arrived, they with an eye askance
+Perused me, but spake not: then turning, each
+To other thus conferring said: "This one
+Seems, by the action of his throat, alive;
+And, be they dead, what privilege allows
+They walk unmantled by the cumbrous stole?"
+  Then thus to me: "Tuscan, who visitest
+The college of the mourning hypocrites,
+Disdain not to instruct us who thou art."
+"By Arno's pleasant stream," I thus replied,
+In the great city I was bred and grew,
+And wear the body I have ever worn.
+But who are ye, from whom such mighty grief,
+As now I witness, courseth down your cheeks?
+What torment breaks forth in this bitter woe?"
+"Our bonnets gleaming bright with orange hue,"
+One of them answer'd' "are so leaden gross,
+That with their weight they make the balances
+To crack beneath them. Joyous friars[3] we were,
+Bologna's natives; Catalano I,
+He Loderingo named; and by thy land
+Together taken, as men use to take
+A single and indifferent arbiter,
+To reconcile their strifes. How there we sped,
+Gardingo's vicinage [4] can best declare."
+"O friars!" I began, "your miseries--"
+But there brake off, for one had caught mine eye,
+Fix'd to a cross with three stakes on the ground:
+He, when he saw me, writhed himself, throughout
+Distorted, ruffling with deep sighs his beard.
+And Catalano, who thereof was 'ware,
+Thus spake: "That pierced spirit,[5] whom intent
+Thou view'st, was he who gave the Pharisees
+Counsel, that it were fitting for one man
+To suffer for the people. He doth lie
+Transverse; nor any passes, but him first
+Behoves make feeling trial how each weighs.
+In straits like this along the foss are placed
+The father of his consort,[6] and the rest
+Partakers in that council, seed of ill
+And sorrow to the Jews."
+
+[1] The monks in Cologne. These monks wore their cowls unusually
+large.
+
+[2] Frederick's. Frederick II. punished those guilty of high
+treason by wrapping them up in lead, and casting them into a
+furnace.
+
+[3] Joyous friars. An order of knights (Frail Godenti) on two of
+whom the Ghibelline party at one time conferred the chief power
+of Florence. One was Catalano de' Malavolti, the other Loderingo
+di Liandolo. Their administration was unjust.
+
+[4] Gardingo's vicinage. That part of the city inhabited by the
+Ghibelline family of the Uberti, and destroyed, under the
+iniquitous administration of Catalano and Loderingo.
+
+[5] That pierced spirit. Caiaphas.
+
+[6] The father of his consort. Annas.
+
+
+When the poets reach the ninth and last circle they see the souls
+of traitors lying in a frozen lake and in the midst Lucifer, the
+fallen archangel, in the very center of the earth. They slide
+down his icy sides, and begin to ascend to the earth's surface
+through a cavern "and thence come forth to see the stars again."
+
+The second part of the Divine Comedy is the vision of Purgatory.
+When the solid earth retired before the falling Lucifer, making
+the hollow cone of hell, it was pushed out on the other side of
+the globe, forming the mountain of Purgatory. This is also
+divided into nine circles. In the first two are the souls of
+those who delayed repentance until death. In the other seven, the
+seven deadly sins are purged away. On the summit is the earthly
+paradise.
+
+
+I. The Celestial Pilot.--From the Pargatorio.
+
+The mountain of Purgatory is situated upon an island. While
+Virgil and Dante are standing looking across the water, they
+behold a boat laden with spirits for Purgatory under the guidance
+of an angel.
+
+  Meanwhile we linger'd by the water's brink,
+Like men' who' musing on their road, in thought
+Journey, while motionless the body rests.
+When lo! as, near upon the hour of dawn,
+Through the thick vapours
+Mars with fiery beam
+Glares down in west, over the ocean floor;
+So seem'd, what once again I hope to view,
+A light, so swiftly coming through the sea,
+No winged course night equal its career.
+From which when for a space I had withdrawn
+Mine eyes, to make inquiry of my guide,
+Again I look'd, and saw it grown in size
+And brightness: then on either side appear'd
+Something but what I knew not, of bright hue,
+And by degrees from underneath it came
+Another. My preceptor silent yet
+Stood, while the brightness, that we first discern'd,
+Open'd the form of wings: then when he knew
+The pilot, cried aloud, "Down, down; bend low
+Thy knees; behold God's angel: fold thy hands:
+Now shalt thou see true ministers indeed.
+Lo! how all human means he sets at nought;
+So that nor oar he needs, nor other sail
+Except his wings, between such distant shores.
+Lo! how straight up to heaven he holds them rear'd,
+Winnowing the air with those eternal plumes,
+That not like mortal hairs fall off or change."
+  As more and more toward us came, more bright
+Appear'd the bird of God, nor could the eye
+Endure his splendour near: I mine bent down.
+He drove ashore in a small bark so swift
+And light, that in its course no wave it drank.
+The heavenly steersman at the prow was seen,
+Visibly written Blessed in his looks.
+Within, a hundred spirits and more there sat.
+  "In Exitu [1] Israel de Egypto,"
+All with one voice together sang, with what
+In the remainder of that hymn is writ.
+Then soon as with the sign of holy cross
+He bless'd them, they at once leap'd out on land:
+He, swiftly as he came, return'd.
+
+[1] In Exitu Israel de Egypto--When Israel came out of Egypt.--Ps
+cxiv.
+
+
+II. The Meeting with Sordello.--From the Purgatorio.
+
+In the second circle of the mountain of Purgatory, Virgil and
+Dante encounter the spirit of Sordello,[1] detained among those
+who delayed repentance until death.
+
+[1] Sordello. A Provencal soldier and poet, whose life is wrapt
+in romantic mystery. See Browning's poem "Sardello".
+
+
+  "But lo! a spirit there
+Stands solitary' and toward us looks:
+It will instruct us in the speediest way."
+  We soon approach'd it.
+     When my courteous guide began,
+"Mantua," the shadow, in itself absorb'd,
+Rose towards us from the place in which it stood,
+And cried, "Mantuan! I am thy countryman, Sordello."
+Each the other then embraced.
+. . . . . . . . .
+After their courteous greetings joyfully
+Seven times exchanged, Sordello backward drew
+Exclaiming, "Who are ye?"--"Before this mount
+By spirits worthy of ascent to God
+Was sought, my bones had by Octavius care
+Been buried. I am Virgil; for no sin
+Deprived of heaven, except for lack of faith."
+So answer'd him in few my gentle guide.
+. . . . . . . . . . .
+"Glory of Latium!" he exclaim'd,
+"In whom our tongue its utmost power display'd;
+Boast of my honour'd birth-place I what desert
+Of mine, what favour, rather, undeserved,
+Shows thee to me? If I to hear that voice
+Am worthy, say if from below thou comest,
+And from what cloister's pale."--"Through every orb
+Of that sad region," he replied, "thus far
+Am I arrived, by heavenly influence led:
+And with such aid I come. Not for my doing,
+But for not doing, have I lost the sight
+Of that high Sun, whom thou desirest, and who
+By me too late was known. There is a place[1]
+There underneath, not made by torments sad,
+But by dun shades alone; where mourning's voice
+Sounds not of anguish sharp, but breathes in sighs.
+There I with little innocents abide,
+Who by death's fangs were bitten, ere exempt
+From human taint. There I with those abide,
+Who the three holy virtues put not on,
+But understood the rest, and without blame
+Follow'd them all. But if thou know'st and canst,
+Direct us how we soonest may arrive,
+Where Purgatory its true beginning takes."
+  He answer'd thus: "We have no certain place
+Assign'd us: upwards I may go, or round.
+Far as I can, I join thee for thy guide.
+But thou beholdest now how day declines;
+And upwards to proceed by night, our power
+Excels: therefore it may be well to choose
+A place of pleasant sojourn. To the right
+Some spirits sit apart retired. If thou
+Consentest, I to these will lead thy steps:
+And thou wilt know them, not without delight."
+
+[1] A place there underneath. Limbo. See first selection from the
+Divine Comedy.
+
+
+III. The Angel of the Gate.--From the Purgatorio.
+
+The poets spend the night in this valley with Sordello and other
+spirits. In the morning they ascend to the gates of the real
+Purgatory. These are kept by an angel deputed by St. Peter.
+
+Ashes, or earth taken dry out of the ground,
+Were of one colour with the robe he wore.
+From underneath that vestment forth he drew
+Two keys, of metal twain: the one was gold,
+Its fellow silver. With the pallid first,
+And next the burnish'd, he so ply'd the gate,
+As to content me well. "Whenever one
+Faileth of these, that in the key-hole straight
+It turn not, to this alley then expect
+Access in vain." Such were the words he spake.
+"One is more precious[1]: but the other needs,
+Skill and sagacity, large share of each,
+Ere its good task to disengage the knot
+Be worthily perform'd.
+From Peter these I hold, of him instructed that I err
+Rather in opening, than in keeping fast;
+So but the suppliant at my feet implore."
+Then of that hallow'd gate he thrust the door,
+Exclaiming, "Enter, but this warning hear:
+He forth again departs who looks behind."
+As in the hinges of that sacred ward
+The swivels turn'd sonorous metal strong,
+Harsh was the grating, nor so surlily
+Roar'd the Tarpeian, when by force bereft Of good
+Metellus, thenceforth from his loss
+To leanness doom'd. Attentively I turn'd,
+Listening the thunder that first issued forth;
+And "We praise thee, O God," methought I heard,
+In accents blended with sweet melody,
+The strains came o'er mine ear, e'en as the sound
+Of choral voices, that in solemn chant
+With organ mingle, and, now high and clear
+Come swelling, now float indistinct away.
+
+[1] One is more precious. The golden key is the divine authority
+by which the priest gives absolution. The silver stands for the
+learning and wisdom necessary for the priest.
+
+
+IV. Beatrice Appears to Dante and Rebukes Him.  From the
+Purgatorio.
+
+Inside the gates of Purgatory rise seven successive circles, in
+which the seven deadly sins are purged; in the first, the sin of
+pride; in the second, that of envy; in the third, anger; in the
+fourth, lukewarmness; in the fifth, avarice; in the sixth,
+gluttony; in the seventh, incontinence is purged by fire. Having
+passed through all these, Dante and his guide ascend to the
+summit of the mountain, the earthly Paradise. Here Virgil ceases
+to guide the poet, but leaves him to choose for a while his own
+way. To him here descends Beatrice who, before assuming his
+further guidance, rebukes him for his manner of life on earth.
+
+At the last audit, so
+The blest shall rise, from forth his cavern each
+Uplifting lightly his new-vested flesh;
+As, on the sacred litter, at the voice
+Authoritative of that elder, sprang
+A hundred ministers and messengers
+Of life eternal. "Blessed thou, who comest!"
+And, "Oh!" they cried, "from full hands scatter ye
+Unwithering lilies": and, so saying, cast
+Flowers over head and round them on all sides.
+I have beheld, ere now, at break of day,
+The eastern clime all roseate; and the sky
+Opposed, one deep and beautiful serene;
+And the sun's face so shaded, and with mists
+Attemper'd, at his rising, that the eye
+Long while endured the sight: thus, in a cloud
+Of flowers, that from those hands angelic rose,
+And down within and outside of the car
+Fell showering, in white veil with olive wreathed,
+A virgin in my view appear'd, beneath
+Green mantle, robed in hue of living flame:
+And o'er my spirit, that so long a time
+Had from her presence felt no shuddering dread,
+Albeit mine eyes discern'd her not, there moved
+A hidden virtue from her, at whose touch
+The power of ancient love was strong within me.
+. . . . . . . . . . . . .
+Upon the chariot's same edge still she stood,
+Immovable; and thus address'd her words:
+"I shape mine answer, for his ear intended,
+Who there stands weeping;[1] that the sorrow now
+May equal the transgression. Not alone
+Through operation of the mighty orbs,
+That mark each seed to some predestined aim,
+As with aspect or fortunate or ill
+The constellations meet; but through benign
+Largess of heavenly graces, which rain down
+From such a height as mocks our vision, this man
+Was, in the freshness of his being, such,
+So gifted virtually, that in him
+All better habits wonderously had thrived
+He more of kindly strength is in the soil,
+So much doth evil seed and lack of culture
+Mar it the more, and make it run to wildness.
+These looks sometime upheld him; for I showed
+My youthful eyes, and led him by their light
+In upright walking. Soon as I had reach'd
+The threshold of my second age, and changed
+My mortal for immortal; then he left me,
+And gave himself to others. When from flesh
+To spirit I had risen, and increase
+Of beauty and of virtue circled me,
+I was less dear to him, and valued less.
+His steps were turn'd into deceitful ways,
+Following false images of good, that make
+No promise perfect. Nor availed me aught
+To sue for inspirations, with the which,
+I, both in dreams of night, and otherwise,
+Did call him back; of them, so little reck'd him.
+Such depth he fell, that all device was short
+Of his preserving, save that he should view
+The children of perdition. To this end
+I visited the purlieus of the dead:
+And one, who hath conducted him thus high,
+Received my supplications urged with weeping.
+It were a breaking of God's high decree,
+If Lethe should be past, and such food[3] tasted,
+Without the cost of some repentant tear."
+
+[1] Who there stands weeping. Dante.
+
+[2] Such food. The oblivion of sins.
+
+
+The third part of the Divine Comedy is the vision of Paradise.
+Dante's Paradise is divided into ten heavens, or spheres. Through
+these in succession the poet is conducted by Beatrice, until in
+the tenth heaven, or the Empyrean, he comes into the visible
+presence of God.
+
+
+I. The Visible Presence.  From the Paradiso.
+
+O eternal beam!
+(Whose height what reach of mortal thought may soar?)
+Yield me again some little particle
+Of what thou then appearedst; give my tongue
+Power' but to leave one sparkle of thy glory,
+Unto the race to come' that shall not lose
+Thy triumph wholly, if thou waken aught
+Of memory in me, and endure to hear
+The record sound in this unequal strain.
+. . . . . . . . . . . . .
+O grace, unenvying of thy boon! that gavest
+Boldness to fix so earnestly my ken
+On the everlasting splendour, that I look'd,
+While sight was unconsumed; and, in that depth,
+Saw in one volume clasp'd of love, whate'er
+The universe unfolds; all properties
+Of substance and of accident, beheld,
+Compounded, yet one individual light
+The whole.
+. . . . . . . . . . . . .
+In that abyss
+Of radiance, clear and lofty, seem'd, methought,
+Three orbs of triple hue,[1] clipt in one bound:
+And, from another, one reflected seem'd,
+As rainbow is from rainbow: and the third
+Seem'd fire, breathed equally from both.
+O speech! How feeble and how faint art thou, to give
+Conception birth. Yet this to what I saw
+Is less than little.
+O eternal light!
+Sole in thyself that dwell'st; and of thyself
+Sole understood' past' present, or to come;
+Thou smile'st, on that circling, which in thee
+Seem'd as reflected splendour, while I mused;
+For I therein, methought, in its own hue
+Beheld our image painted: stedfastly
+I therefore pored upon the view. As one,
+Who versed in geometric lore, would fain
+Measure the circle; and, though pondering long
+And deeply, that beginning, which he needs,
+Finds not: e'en such was I, intent to scan
+The novel wonder, and trace out the form,
+How to the circle fitted, and therein
+How placed: but the flight was not for my wing:
+Had not a flash darted athwart my mind,
+And, in the spleen, unfolded what is sought.
+Here vigour fail'd the towering fantasy:
+But yet the will roll'd onward, like a wheel
+In even motion' by the love impell'd,
+That moves the sun in heaven and all the stars.
+
+[1] Three orbs of triple hue. The Trinity.
+
+
+Next after Dante, the first name of importance in Italian
+literature is that of Francesca Petrarca, called Petrarch in
+English. He was the son of a Florentine exile, was born at Aruzzo
+in 1304, and died at Padua in 1374. He was a scholar and a
+diplomat, and was entrusted with many public services. Most of
+his active life he spent at Avignon, at the papal court, or in
+Vaucluse near by. When he was twenty-three, he met Laura, the
+beautiful woman with whom he was always after in love, and who
+was the inspiration of all his lyric poetry. She was the daughter
+of a citizen of Avignon, and was married, probably to Ugo de Sade
+of Avignon. She was a good woman whose character was ever above
+reproach. Petrarch was a very industrious writer. He produced
+many letters and treatises in Latin, besides a long Latin epic
+Africa. But his great and deserved fame rests upon his Italian
+lyric poetry--the Canzoniere. The Canzoniere is divided into
+three parts: the poems to Laura in life; to Laura in death; and
+the Triumphs. The Triumphs are inferior in merit to the other two
+parts. He had studied closely the Provencall poets, and had
+something of their spirit.
+
+
+I. To Laura in Life.
+
+SONNET III. HE BLAMES LOVE FOR WOUNDING HIM ON A HOLY DAY (GOOD
+FRIDAY).
+
+'Twas on the morn' when heaven its blessed ray
+In pity to its suffering master veil'd,
+First did I, Lady, to your beauty yield,
+Of your victorious eyes th' unguarded prey.
+Ah! little reck'd I that, on such a day,
+Needed against Love's arrows any shield;
+And trod' securely trod, the fatal field:
+Whence, with the world's, began my heart's dismay.
+On every side Love found his victim bare,
+And through mine eyes transfix'd my throbbing heart;
+Those eyes, which now with constant sorrows flow:
+But poor the triumph of his boasted art,
+Who thus could pierce a naked youth nor dare
+To you in armour mail'd even to display his bow!
+
+--Wrangham.
+
+
+SONNET XIV. HE COMPARES HIMSELF TO A PILGRIM.
+
+The palmer bent, with locks of silver gray,
+Quits the sweet spot where he has pass'd his years,
+Quits his poor family, whose anxious fears
+Paint the loved father fainting on his way;
+And trembling, on his aged limbs slow borne,
+In these last days that close his earthly course,
+He, in his soul's strong purpose, finds new force,
+Though weak with age, though by long travel worn:
+Thus reaching Rome, led on by pious love,
+He seeks the image of that Saviour Lord
+Whom soon he hopes to meet in bliss above:
+So, oft in other forms I seek to trace
+Some charm, that to my heart may yet afford
+A faint resemblance of thy matchless grace.
+
+--Dacre
+
+
+SONNET XCVIII.  LEAVE-TAKING.
+
+There was a touching paleness on her face,
+Which chased her smiles, but such sweet union made
+Of pensive majesty and heavenly grace,
+As if a passing cloud had veil'd her with its shade;
+Then knew I how the blessed ones above
+Gaze on each other in their perfect bliss,
+For never yet was look of mortal love
+So pure, so tender, so serene as this.
+The softest glance fond woman ever sent
+To him she loved, would cold and rayless be
+Compared to this, which she divinely bent
+Earthward, with angel sympathy, on me,
+That seem'd with speechless tenderness to say,
+"Who takes from me my faithful friend away?"
+
+-E.(New Monthly Magazine.)
+
+
+SESTINA VII. HE DESPAIRS OF ESCAPING FROM HIS TORMENTS.
+
+Count the ocean's finny droves;
+Count the twinkling host of stars,
+Round the night's pale orb that moves;
+Count the groves' wing'd choristers;
+Count each verdant blade that grows;
+Counted then will be my woes.
+. . . . . . . .
+Sad my nights; from morn till eve,
+Tenanting the woods, I sigh:
+But, ere I shall cease to grieve,
+Ocean's vast bed shall be dry,
+Suns their light from moons shall gain,
+And spring wither on each plain.
+
+Pensive, weeping, night and day,
+From this shore to that I fly,
+Changeful as the lunar ray;
+And, when evening veils the sky,
+Then my tears might swell the floods,
+Then my sighs might bow the woods!
+
+Towns I hate, the shades I love;
+For relief to yon green height,
+Where the rill resounds, I rove
+At the grateful calm of night;
+There I wait the day's decline,
+For the welcome moon to shine.
+
+Song, that on the wood-hung stream
+In the silent hour wert born,
+Witness'd but by Cynthia's beam,
+Soon as breaks to-morrow's morn,
+Thou shalt seek a glorious plain,
+There with Laura to remain!
+
+--Nott.
+
+
+II. To Laura in Death.
+
+SONNET 1.  ON THE ANNOUNCEMENT OF THE DEATH OF LAURA.
+
+Woe for the 'witching look of that fair face!
+The port where ease with dignity combined!
+Woe for those accents' that each savage mind
+To softness tuned, to noblest thoughts the base!
+And the sweet smile, from whence the dart I trace,
+Which now leaves death my only hope behind!
+Exalted soul, most fit on thrones to 've shined,
+But that too late she came this earth to grace!
+For you I still must burn, and breathe in you;
+For I was ever yours; of you bereft,
+Full little now I reck all other care.
+With hope and with desire you thrill'd me through,
+When last my only joy on earth I left--
+But caught by winds each word was lost in air.
+
+--Anon, Ox., 1795.
+
+
+SONNET XLII.  THE SPRING ONLY RENEWS HIS GRIEF.
+
+The soft west wind, returning, brings again
+Its lovely family of herbs and flowers;
+Progne's gay notes and Philomela's strain
+Vary the dance of springtide's rosy hours;
+And joyously o'er every field and plain
+Glows the bright smile that greets them from above,
+And the warm spirit of reviving love
+Breathes in the air and murmurs from the main.
+But tears and sorrowing sighs, which gushingly
+Pour from the secret chambers of my heart,
+Are all that spring returning brings to me;
+And in the modest smile, or glance of art,
+The song of birds, the bloom of heath and tree,
+A desert's rugged tract and savage forms I see.
+
+--Greene.
+
+
+SONNET LII. HE REVISITS VAUCLUSE.
+
+I feel the well-known breeze, and the sweet hill
+Again appears, where rose that beauteous light,
+Which, while Heaven willed it, met my eyes, then bright
+With gladness, but now dimmed with many an ill.
+Vain hopes! weak thoughts! Now, turbid is the rill;
+The flowers have drooped; and she hath ta'en her flight
+From the cold nest, which once, in proud delight,
+Living and dying, I had hoped to fill:
+I hoped, in these retreats, and in the blaze
+Of her fair eyes, which have consumed my heart,
+To taste the sweet reward of troubled days.
+Thou, whom I serve, how hard and proud thou art!
+Erewhile, thy flame consumed me; now, I mourn
+Over the ashes which have ceased to burn.
+
+--Roscoe.
+
+
+CANZONE III. UNDER VARIOUS ALLEGORIES HE PAINTS THE VIRTUE,
+BEAUTY, AND UNTIMELY DEATH OF LAURA.
+
+While at my window late I stood alone,
+So new and many things there cross'd my sight,
+To view them I had almost weary grown.
+A dappled mind appear'd upon the right,
+In aspect gentle, yet of stately stride,
+By two swift greyhounds chased, a black and white,
+Who tore in the poor side
+Of that fair creature wounds so deep and wide,
+That soon they forced her where ravine and rock
+The onward passage block: Then triumph'd
+Death her matchless beauties o'er,
+And left me lonely there her sad fate to deplore.
+ . . . . . . .
+In a fair grove a bright young laurel made--
+Surely to Paradise the plant belongs!--
+Of sacred boughs a pleasant summer shade,
+From whose green depths there issued so sweet songs
+Of various birds, and many a rare delight
+Of eye and ear, what marvel from the world
+They stole my senses quite!
+While still I gazed, the heavens grew black around,
+The fatal lightning flash'd, and sudden hurl'd,
+Uprooted to the ground, That blessied birth.
+Alas! for it laid low,
+And its dear shade whose like we ne'er again shall know.
+. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
+A lovely and rare bird within the wood,
+Whose crest with gold, whose wings with purple gleam'd,
+Alone, but proudly soaring, next I view'd,
+Of heavenly and immortal birth which seem'd,
+Flitting now here, now there, until it stood
+Where buried fount and broken laurel lay,
+And sadly seeing there
+The fallen trunk, the boughs all stripp'd and bare,
+The channel dried--for all things to decay
+So tend-it turn'd away
+As if in angry scorn, and instant fled,
+While through me for her loss new love and pity spread.
+
+At length along the flowery award I saw
+So sweet and fair a lady pensive move
+That her mere thought inspires a tender awe;
+Meek in herself, but haughty against Love,
+Flow'd from her waist a robe so fair and fine
+Seem'd gold and snow together there to join:
+But, ah! each charm above
+Was veil'd from sight in an unfriendly cloud:
+Stung by a lurking shake, as flowers that pine
+Her head she gently bow'd,
+And joyful pass'd on high, perchance secure:
+Alas I that in the world grief only should endure.
+
+
+SONNET LXXXV. HE CONFESSES AND REGRETS HIS SINS, AND PRAYS GOD TO
+SAVE HIM FROM ETERNAL DEATH.
+
+Love held me one and twenty years enchain'd,
+His flame was joy--for hope was in my grief!
+For ten more years I wept without relief,
+When Laura with my heart, to heaven attain'd.
+Now weary grown, my life I had arraign'd
+That in its error, check'd (to my belief)
+Blest virtue's seeds-now, in my yellow leaf,
+I grieve the mispent years, existence stain'd.
+Alas! it might have sought a brighter goal,
+In flying troublous thoughts, and winning peace;
+O Father! I repentant seek thy throne:
+Thou, in this temple hast enshrined my soul,
+Oh, bless me yet, and grant its safe release!
+Unjustified--my sin I humbly own.
+
+--Wollaston.
+
+
+SONNET XC.  THE PLAINTIVE SONG OF A BIRD RECALLS HIS KEENER
+SORROW.
+
+Poor, solitary bird, that pour'st thy lay,
+Or haply mournest the sweet season gone,
+As chilly night and winter hurry on,
+And daylight fades, and summer flies away!
+If, as the cares that swell thy little throat,
+Thou knew'st alike the woes that wound my rest.
+O, thou wouldst house thee
+In this kindred breast,
+And mix with mine thy melancholy note!
+Yet little know I ours are kindred ills:
+She still may live the object of thy song:
+Not so for me stern Death or Heaven wills!
+But the sad reason, and less grateful hour,
+And of past joy and sorrow thoughts that throng,
+Prompt my full heart this idle lay to pour.
+
+
+FROM THE DECAMERON.
+
+The third great name in Italian mediaeval literature is that of
+Giovanni Boccaccio. He was born in Paris in 1313, and died at
+Certaldo in 1345. Like Dante and Petrarch he was a scholar and an
+industrious writer. He wrote some important historical treatises,
+and many poems, some of which attained some fame. But it is as a
+writer of prose that he deserves the name he has. In Italy, as in
+all other lands, there was in the Middle Ages a large body of
+tales and fables in circulation. In Italy, during the thirteenth
+and fourteenth centuries, these tales came into literature as
+Novellas or novels. The Decamerone of Boccaccio is a collection
+of a hundred such novels or tales. They are derived from many
+sources, probably not more than three or four of them being
+invented by Boccaccio. The tale we select is interesting as
+furnishing the basis for one of Keats' beautiful romantic
+ballads.
+
+
+THE POT OF BASIL.
+
+There lived, then at Messina, three young merchants, who were
+brothers, and left very rich by their father; they had an only
+sister, a lady of worth and beauty, who was unmarried. Now, they
+kept a youth, by way of factor, to manage their affairs, called
+Lorenzo, one of a very agreeable person, who, being often in
+Isabella's company, and finding himself no way disagreeable to
+her, confined all his wishes to her only, which in some little
+time had their full effect. This affair was carried on between
+them for a considerable time, without the least suspicion; till
+one night it happened, as she was going to his chamber, that the
+eldest brother saw her, without her knowing it. This afflicted
+him greatly; yet, being a prudent man, he made no discovery, but
+lay considering with himself till morning, what course was best
+for them to take. He then related to his brothers what he had
+seen, with regard to their sister and Lorenzo, and, after a long
+debate, it was resolved to seem to take no notice of it for the
+present, but to make away with him privately, the first
+opportunity, that they might remove all cause of reproach both to
+their sister and themselves. Continuing in this resolution, they
+behaved with the same freedom and civility to Lorenzo as ever,
+till at length, under a pretense of going out of the city, upon a
+party of pleasure, they carried him along with them, and arriving
+at a lonesome place, fit for their purpose, they slew him,
+unprepared to make any defence, and buried him there; then,
+returning to Messina, they gave it out that they had sent him on
+a journey of business, which was easily believed,  because they
+frequently did so. In some time, she, thinking that he made a
+long stay, began to inquire earnestly of her brothers concerning
+him, and this she did so often, that at last one of them said to
+her, "What have you to do with Lorenzo, that you are continually
+teasing us about him? If you inquire any more, you shall receive
+such an answer as you will by no means approve of." This grieved
+her exceedingly; and, fearing she knew not why, she remained
+without asking any more questions; yet all the night would she
+lament and complain of his long stay; and thus she spent her life
+in a tedious and anxious waiting for his return; till one night
+it happened, that having wept herself asleep, he appeared to her
+in a dream, all pale and ghastly, with his clothes rent in
+pieces; and she thought he spoke to her thus: "My dear Isabel,
+thou grievest incessantly for my absence, and art continually
+calling upon me: but know that I can return no more to thee, for
+the last day that thou sawest me, thy brothers put me to death."
+And, describing the place where they had buried him, he bid her
+call no more upon him, nor ever expect to see him again, and
+disappeared. She, waking, and giving credit to the vision,
+lamented exceedingly; and, not daring to say anything to her
+brethren, resolved to go to the place mentioned in the dream, to
+be convinced of the reality of it. Accordingly, having leave to
+go a little way into the country, along with a companion of hers,
+who was acquainted with all her affairs, she went thither, and
+clearing the ground of the dry leaves with which it was covered,
+she observed where the earth seemed to be lightest, and dug
+there. She had not searched far before she came to her lover's
+body, which she found in no degree wasted; this confirmed her of
+the truth of her vision, and she was in the utmost concern on
+that account; but, as that was not a fit place for lamentation,
+she would willingly have taken the corpse away with her, to have
+given it a more decent interment; but, finding herself unable to
+do that, she cut off his head, which she put into a handkerchief,
+and, covering the trunk again with the mould, she gave it to her
+maid to carry, and returned home without being perceived. She
+then shut herself up in her chamber, and lamented over it till it
+was bathed in her tears, which being done, she put it into a
+flower pot, having folded it in a fine napkin, and covering it
+with earth, she planted sweet herbs therein, which she watered
+with nothing but rose or orange water, or else with her tears;
+accustoming herself to sit always before it, and devoting her
+whole heart unto it, as containing her dear Lorenzo. The sweet
+herbs, what with her continual bathing, and the moisture arising
+from the putrified head, flourished exceedingly, and sent forth a
+most agreeable odour. Continuing this manner of life, she was
+observed by some of the neighbours, and they related her conduct
+to her brothers, who had before remarked with surprise the decay
+of her beauty. Accordingly, they reprimanded her for it, and,
+finding that ineffectual, stole the pot from her. She, perceiving
+that it was taken away, begged earnestly of them to restore it,
+which they refusing, she fell sick. The young men wondered much
+why she should have so great a fancy for it, and were resolved to
+see what it contained: turning out the earth, therefore, they saw
+the napkin, and in it the head, not so much  consumed, but that,
+by the curled locks, they knew it to be Lorenzo's, which threw
+them into the utmost astonishment, and fearing lest it should be
+known, they buried it privately, and withdrew themselves from
+thence to Naples. The young lady never ceased weeping, and
+calling for her pot of flowers, till she died; and thus
+terminated her unfortunate love. But, in some time afterwards,
+the thing became public, which gave rise to this song:
+
+Most cruel and unkind was he,
+That of my flowers deprived me, &c.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of The Project Gutenberg Etext Song and Legend From the Middle Ages
+