And than bycometh the ground so proud,
That it wole have a newë shroud,
And makith so queynt his robe and faire,
That it had hewes an hundred payre,
Of gras and flouris, ynde and pers1,
And many hewës full dyvers:
That is the robe I mene, iwis,

Through which the ground to preisen is.
The briddës, that han left her song,
While thei han suffrid cold so strong
In wedres gryl2 and derk to sighte,
Ben in May for the sonnë brighte,
So glade, that they shewe in syngyng,
That in her hertis is sich lykyng,
That they mote syngen and be light.
Than doth the nyghtyngale hir myght,
To mak noyse, and syngen blythe.
Than is blisful many sithe3,

The chelaundre', and the papyngay.
Than youngë folk entenden ay,
For to ben gay and amorous,

The tyme is than so savorous.

Hard is the hert that loveth nought
In May, whan al this mirth is wrought;
Whan he may on these braunches here
The smalë briddës syngen clere

Her blisful swetë song pitous,
And in this sesoun delytous:

Whan love affraieth" alle thing.

Methought a nyght, in my sleping,

Right in my bed ful redily,
That it was by the morowe erly,
And up I roos, and gan me clothe;
Anoon I wissh" myn hondis bothe;
A sylvre nedle forth I drough
Out of an aguler queynt ynough,

7

2 horrible storms.

• washed.

3 times.

4 goldfinch.

needle-case.

And gan this nedle threde anon;
For out of toun me list to gon,
The song of briddës for to here
That in thise buskës syngen clere,
And in the swete seson that leve is;
With a threde bastyng my slevis,
Alone I wente in my playing,
The smalë foulës song harknyng.
They peyned hem ful many peyre,
To synge on bowës blosmed feyre1.
Joly and gay, ful of gladnesse,
Toward a ryver gan I me dresse,
That I herd rennë fastë by;
For fairer playing non saugh I
Than playen me by that ryvere,
For from an hille that stood ther nere,
Cam doun the streme ful stif and bold,
Cleer was the water, and as cold
As any welle is, sooth to seyn,
And somdele lasse it was than Seyn,
But it was straiter, wel-away!
And never saugh I, er that day,
The watir that so wel lyked me;

And wondir glad was I to se
That lusty place, and that ryvere;
And with that watir that ran so clere
My face I wissh. Tho saugh I wel,
The botme paved everydel3

With gravel, ful of stonës shene.
The medewe softë, swote, and grene,

Beet right up on the watir-syde.
Ful clere was than the morow-tyde,
And ful attempre, out of drede *.

Tho gan I walke thorough the mede,
Dounward ay in my pleying,

The ryver-syde costeying".

1 blossomed fair.

2 less.

everywhere. following.

4 attempered, without doubt.

THE FLOWER AND THE LEAF.

The Flower and the Leaf, written, according to internal evidence, by a lady, and about 1450, follows out a fancy of French origin which had already in Chaucer's time found its way into the stock poetical material of the age, and to which he makes reference in The Legende of Goode Women.

But helpeth, ye that han conning and might,
Ye lovers, that can make of sentement;

In this case oughtë ye be diligent

To ferthren me somewhat in my labour,

Whether ye been with the leafe or with the flour.'

The followers of the Flower

Are such folk that loved idlenesse,

And not deliten in no businesse,

But for to hunte and hauke and play in medes
And many other suchlike idle dedes:'

whereas the company of the Leaf, wearing laurel chaplets, 'whose lusty green may not appaired be' by winter storms or frosts, represent the brave and steadfast of all ages, the great knights and champions, the constant lovers and pure women of past and present times.

The poem opens with the usual spring morning, and the description of a woodland arbour hedged round with sycamore and eglantine, and haunted with the songs of birds. Thence the poet sees the rival companies of the Flower and the Leaf scattered over the plain outside, and describes their dresses and equipments with a length and wearisome detail which would alone mark off the poem from Chaucer's work. A storm comes on, which drenches the flower-chaplets and green dresses of Flora's train, while it leaves those of the Leaf unharmed. These bring shelter and friendly help to the followers of the Flower, and then the two companies pass singing out of sight, and a 'fair lady,' herself a servant of the Leaf, explains to the poet the meaning of the vision.

Dryden's paraphrase of this poem, which he of course believed to be by Chaucer, is well known.

[The author having passed a sleepless night, though why she knows not, as she has neither sickness nor disease, wanders out early.]

And up I roos three hourës after twelfe,
Aboute the [erly] springing of the day;
And on I putte my geare and mine array,
And to a pleasaunt grove I gan to passe,
Long or the brightë Sonne up-risen was;
In which were okës grete, streight as a line,
Under the which the gras, so fresh of hew,
Was newly spronge; and an eight foot or nine
Every tree wel fro his fellow grew,

With branches brode, laden with levës new,
That sprongen out ayen the sunnë shene,
Some very red, and some a glad light grene;

Which, as me thoughte, was right a plesant sight;
And eke the briddës songës for to here
Would have rejoycëd any earthly wight;
And I that couthe not yet, in no manere,
Here the nightingale of all the yere,
Ful busily herkned with hart and ere,
If I her voice perceive coude any-where.
And, at the last, a path of little breede1
I found, that gretly hadde not used be;
For it forgrowen was with grasse and weede,
That well unneth a wight [ne] might it se:
Thoght I, 'This path some whider goth, pardé !'
And so I followed, till it me brought

To right a pleasaunt herber,2 well ywrought,
That benched was, and eke with turfës newe
Freshly turved, whereof the grenë gras,

So small, so thicke, so short, so fresh of hewe,
That most ylike grene wool, I wot, it was:
The hegge also that yede in this compas3,
And closed in all the grenë herbere,

With sicamour was set and eglatere 1.

And as I stood and cast aside mine eie,
I was ware of the fairest medler-tree,
That ever yet in all my life I sie1,
As full of blossomes as it mightë be;
Therein a goldfinch leaping pretilie

Fro bough to bough; and, as him list, gan ete
Of buddës here and there and flourës swete.

And to the herber side ther was joyninge
This faire tree, of which I have you told;
And at the last the brid began to singe,
When he had eten what he etë wolde,
So passing sweetly, that by manifolde
It was more pleasaunt than I coude devise.
And when his song was ended in this wise,
The nightingale with so mery a note
Answered him, that all the woodë rong
So sodainly, that, as it were a sote 2,
I stood astonied; so was I with the song
Thorow ravishëd, that till late and longe,
Ne wist I in what place I was, ne where ;
And ay, me thoughte, she song even by mine ere.

Wherefore about I waited busily,

On every side, if that I her mighte see;
And, at the last, I gan full well aspie
Where she sat in a fresh grene laurer tree,
On the further side, even right by me,
That gave so passing a delicious smell,
According to the eglantere full well.

And as I sat, the briddës harkening thus,
Me thoughte that I herde voices sodainly,
The most sweetest and most delicious

That ever any wight, I trow truly,
Herd in here life; for sothe the armony
And sweet accord was in so good musike,
That the voice[s] to angels most were3 like.

1

saw.

2 sot, fool.

Old ed. was.