penes arbitrium eft & jus & norma loquendi. When an ancient word for its found and fignificancy deferves to be revived, I have that reasonable veneration for antiquity, to restore it. All beyond this is fuperftition. Words are not like landmarks, fo facred as never to be removed; customs are changed, and even ftatutes are filently repealed, when the reafon ceafes for which they were enacted. As for the other part of the argument, that his thoughts will lofe of their original beauty, by the innovation of words; in the first place, not only their beauty, but their being is loft, where they are no longer understood, which is the prefent cafe. I grant that fomething must be lost in all transfufion, that is, in all translations; but the fenfe will remain, which would otherwise be loft, or at least be maimed, when it is fcarce intelligible; and that but to a few. How few are there who can read Chaucer, fo as to underftand him perfectly? And if imperfectly, then with lefs profit and no pleasure. 'Tis not for the ufe of fome old Saxon friends, that I have taken thefe pains with him let them neglect my verfion, because they have no need of it. I made it for their fakes who understand fenfe and poetry as well they, when that poetry and fenfe is put into words which they underftand. I will go farther, and dare to add, that what beauties I lofe in fome places, I give to others which had them not originally but in this I may be partial to myfelf; let the reader judge, and I fubmit to his decifion. Yet I think I have juft occafion to complain of them, who, because they understand Chaucer, would deprive the greater part of their countrymen of the fame advantage, and hoard him up, as mifers do their grandam gold, only to look on it themselves, and hinder others from making use of it. In fum, I seriously proteft, that no man ever had, or can have, a greater veneration for Chaucer, than myself. I have tranflated fome part of his works, only that I might

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perpetuate his memory, or at least refresh it, amongst my countrymen. If I have altered him any where for the better, I must at the fame time acknowledge, that I could have done nothing without him: Facile eft inventis addere, is no great commendation; and I am not fo vain to think I have deferved a greater. I will conclude what I have to fay of him fingly, with this one remark: a lady of my acquaintance, who keeps a kind of correfpondence with fome authors of the fair fex in France, has been informed by them, that Mademoiselle de Scudery, who is as old as Sibyl, and inspired like her by the fame god of poetry, is at this time tranflating Chaucer into modern French. From which I gather, that he has been formerly tranflated into the old Provencal, (for how fhe fhould come to understand old English I know not.) But the matter of fact being true, it makes me think that there is fomething in it like fatality; that, after certain periods of time, the fame and memory of great wits fhould be renewed, as Chaucer is both in France and England. If this be wholly chance, 'tis extraordinary, and I dare not call it more, for fear of being taxed with fuperftition.

Boccace comes laft to be confidered, who, living in the fame age with Chaucer, had the fame genius, and followed the fame ftudies: both writ novels, and each of them cultivated his mother tongue. But the greatest resemblance of our two modern authors being in their familiar ftile, and pleafing way of relating comical adventures, I may pafs it over, because I have tranflated nothing from Boccace of that nature. In the ferious part of poetry, the advantage is wholly on Chaucer's fide; for tho the Englishman has borrow'd many tales from the Italian, yet it appears that thofe of Boccace were not generally of his own making but taken from authors of former ages, and by him only modelled: fo that what there was of invention in

either of them, may be judged equal. But Chaucer has refined on Boccace, and has mended the ftories which he has borrowed, in his way of telling; though profe allows more liberty of thought, and the expreffion is more easy, when unconfined by numbers. Our countryman carries weight, and yet wins the race at difadvantage. I defire not the reader fhould take my word and therefore I will fet two of their difcourfes

on the fame fubject, in the fame light, for every man' to judge betwixt them. I tranflated Chaucer firft, and, amongst the reft, pitched on the wife of Bath's tale; not daring, as I have faid, to adventure on her prologue, because it is too licentious: there Chaucer introduces an old woman of mean parentage, whom a youthful knight of noble blood was forced to marry, and confequently loathed her: the crone being in bed with him on the wedding-night, and finding his averfion, endeavours to win his affection by reason, and speaks a good word for herself, (as who could blame her?) in hope to mollify the fullen bridegroom. She takes her topicks from the benefits of poverty, the advantages of old age and uglinefs, the vanity of youth, and the filly pride of ancestry and titles without inherent virtue, which is the true nobility. When I had closed Chaucer, I returned to Ovid, and tranflated fome more of his fables; and by this time had fo far forgotten the wife of Bath's tale, that, when I took up Boccace, unawares I fell on the fame argument of preferring virtue to nobility of blood, and titles, in the ftory of Sigifmunda; which I had certainly avoided for the refemblance of the two difcourfes, if my memory had not failed me. Let the reader weigh them both; and if he thinks me partial to Chaucer, it is in him to right Boccace.

I prefer in our countryman, far above all his other ftories, the noble poem of Palamon and Arcite, which is of the Epique kind, and perhaps not much inferior

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to the Ilias or the Æneis: the ftory is more pleafing than either of them, the manners as perfect, the diction as poetical, the learning as deep and various ; and the difpofition full as artful; only it includes a greater length of time, as taking up feven years at leaft; but Ariftotle has left undecided the duration of the action; which yet is eafily reduced into the compafs of a year, by a narration of what preceded the return of Palamon to Athens. I had thought for the honour of our nation, and more particularly for his, whofe laurel, tho unworthy, I have worn after him, that this story was of English growth, and Chaucer's own: 'but I was undeceived by Boccace; for cafually looking on the end of his feventh Giornata, I found Dioneo (under which name he fhadows himself) and Fiametta (who reprefents his mistress the natural daughter of Robert king of Naples) of whom these words are fpoken, Dioneo e la Fiametta granpezza contarono infieme & Arcita, e di Palamone: by which it appears that this story was written before the time of Boccace; but the name of its author being wholly loft, Chaucer is now become an original; and I queftion not but the poen has received many beauties by paffing through his noble hands. Befides this tale, there is another of his own invention, after the manner of the Provencals, call'd The Flower and the Leaf; with which I was fo particularly pleased, both for the invention and the moral, that I cannot hinder myself from recommending it to the reader.

As a corollary to this preface, in which I have done juftice to others, I owe fomewhat to myself: not that I think it worth my time to enter the lifts with one Milbourn, and one Blackmore, but barely to take notice, that fuch men there are who have written fcurrilously against me, without any provocation. Milbourn, who is in Orders, pretends amongst the reft this quarrel to me, that I have fallen foul on priesthood: if I have,

I am only to afk pardon of good priests, and am afraid his part of the reparation will come to little. Let him be fatisfied that he fhall not be able to force himself upon me for an adveríary. I contemn him too much. to enter into competition with him. His own tranflations of Virgil have answered his criticisms on mine." If (as they fay, he has declared in print) he prefers the version of Ogilby to mine, the world has made him the fame compliment: for it is agreed on all hands, that he writes even below Ogilby: that, you will fay, is not eafily to be done; but what cannot Milbourn bring about? I am fatisfied however, that while he and I live together, I fhall not be thought the worst poet of the age. It looks as if I had defired him underhand to write so ill against me: but upon my honeft word I have not bribed him to do me this fervice, and am wholly guiltless of his pamphlet. 'Tis true, I fhould be glad, if I could perfuade him to continue his good offices, and write fuch another critique on any thing of mine: for I find by experience he has a great ftroke with the reader, when he condemns any of my poems, to make the world have a better opinion of them. He has taken fome pains with my poetry; but no body will be perfuaded to take the fame with his. If I had taken to the church (as he affirms, but which was never in my thoughts) I fhould have had more fenfe, if not more grace, than to have turned myfelf out of my benefice by writing libels on my parishioners. But his account of my manners and my principles, are of a piece with his cavils and his poetry: and so I have done with him for ever.

As for the City Bard, or Knight Physician, I hear his quarrel to me is, that I was the author of Abfalom and Achitopel, which he thinks is a little hard on his fanatic patrons in London.

But I will deal the more civilly with his two poems, because nothing ill is to be fpoken of the dead and