Of Bacchus ever fair, and ever young. He shows his honest face: 50 The mighty master smiled to see Now give the haut boys breath; he comes, he For pity melts the mind to love. comes. Softly sweet, in Lydian measures, 70 80 90 100 CHRONOS. 20 (Horns, or hunting music within. From the opera Albion and Albanius, 1685. 1 Anciently the highest divinity, who presided over The god of time; ruler of the world before Zeus. Enter DIANA. DIANA. With horns and with hounds I waken the day, I tuck up my robe, and am buskined soon, 30 Chorus of all. Plenty, peace, and pleasure fly; In woodland-walks no more is seen; The sprightly green has drunk the Tyrian dye. MARS. And chase the wild goats o'er summits of Sound the trumpet, beat the drum; 60 70 A very merry, dancing, drinking, Laughing, quaffing, and unthinking time. Chorus of all. Then our age was in its prime, Free from rage, and free from crime, Dance of DIANA'S attendants. Enter MARS. MARS. Inspires the vocal brass, inspire; Arms and honour, Arms and honour, Set the martial mind on fire, Mars has looked the sky to red; And Peace, the lazy good, is fled. Plenty, peace, and pleasure fly; The sprightly green In woodland-walks no more is seen; I scarcely felt the weight; Joy ruled the day, and Love the night. But, since the Queen of Pleasure left the ground, I faint, I lag, And feebly drag The ponderous orb around. morning call MOMUS. All, all, of a piece throughout: (Pointing to Diana, Thy chase had a beast in view; Thy wars brought nothing about; Thy lovers were all untrue. JANUS. 'Tis well an old age is out. CHRONOS. And time to begin a new. All, all of a piece throughout: 'Tis well an old age is out, And time to begin a new. (To Mars. the beauties and faults of other poets, but only indulged himself in the luxury of writing; and perhaps knew it was a fault but hoped the reader would not find it. For this reason, though he must always be thought a great poet, he is no longer esteemed a good writer; and for ten impressions,2 which his works have had in so many successive years, yet at present a hundred books are scarcely purchased once a twelvemonth; for, as my last Lord Rochester 100 said, though somewhat profanely, "Not being of God, he could not stand.'' (To Venus. Chaucer followed nature everywhere, but was never so bold to go beyond her, and there is a great difference of being poeta and nimis poeta, if we believe Catullus, as much as betwixt a modest behaviour and affectation. The verse of Chaucer, I confess, is not harmonious to us; but 't is like the eloquence of one whom Tacitus commends, it was auribus istius temporis accommodata:4 they who lived with him, (Dance of huntsmen, nymphs, warriors, and and some time after him, thought it musical; lovers.) ON CHAUCER. FROM THE PREFACE TO THE FABLES.* It remains that I say somewhat of Chaucer in particular. and it continues so even in our judgment, if compared with the numbers of Lydgate and Gower, his contemporaries; there is the rude sweetness of a Scotch tune in it, which is natural and pleasing though not perfect. "Tis true I cannot go so far as he who published the last edition of him,5 for he would make us believe the fault is in our ears, and that there were really ten syllables in a verse where we find but nine; but this opinion is not worth confuting; 't is so gross and obvious an error that common sense (which is a rule in everything but matters of faith and revelation) must convince the reader that equality of numbers in every verse which we call heroic? was either not known or not always practised In the first place, as he is the father of English poetry, so I hold him in the same degree of veneration as the Grecians held Homer or the Romans Virgil. He is a perpetual fountain of good sense, learned in all sciences, and therefore speaks properly on all subjects. As he knew what to say, so he knows also when to leave off; a continence which is practised by few writers, and scarcely by any of the ancients, excepting Virgil and Horace. One in Chaucer's age. It were an easy matter to of our late great poets1 is sunk in his reputa- | tion because he could never forgive any conceit which came in his way, but swept, like a dragnet, great and small. There was plenty enough, but the dishes were ill sorted; whole pyramids of sweetmeats for boys and women, but little of solid meat for men. All this proceeded, not from any want of knowledge, but of judgment. Neither did he want that in discerning produce some thousands of his verses which are lame for want of half a foot and sometimes a whole one, and which no pronunciation can make otherwise.† We can only say that he lived in the infancy of our poetry, and that nothing is brought to perfection at the first. We must be children before we grow men. There was an Ennius, and in process of time Abraham Cowley, who could not "forgive" (1. e. give up, forego) strained fancies and distorted forms of expression. 1 2 New printings. 3 "Overmuch a poet" (said by Martial, not Catul- 4 "Suited to the ears of that time." 7 The iambic pentameter couplet (see Eng. Lit., † Dryden did not understand Chaucer's pronunciation nor sufficiently allow for imperfections in the manuscripts. |