'Twas when fresh May her early blossoms yields, 290 I pawn'd my honour, and engag'd my vow, That he, and only he, should serve my turn. We straight struck hands, the bargain was agreed; I still have shifts against a time of need: 295 I vow'd, I scarce could sleep since first I knew him, And durst be sworn he had bewitch'd me to him, 301 If e'er I slept, I dream'd of him alone, And dreams foretell, as learned men have shown: All this I said; but dreams, Sirs, I had none: I follow'd but my crafty Crony's lore, Who bid me tell this lye-and twenty more. Thus day by day, and month by month we past; It pleas'd the Lord to take my spouse at last. I tore my gown, I soil'd my locks with dust, 305 And beat my breasts, as wretched widows-must. 310 Before my face my handkerchief I spread, To hide the flood of tears I did not shed. The good man's coffin to the church was borne; 320 Fair Venus gave me fire, and sprightly grace, 325 By virtue of this pow'rful constellation, But to my tale: A month scarce pass'd away, With dance and song, we kept the nuptial day. All I possess'd I gave to his command, My goods and chattels, money, house, and land: He prov'd a rebel to my sov'reign will: 330 Nay, once, by Heav'n! he struck me on the face; 335 Hear but the fact, and judge, yourselves, the case. Stubborn as any lioness was I, And knew full well to raise my voice on high; As true a rambler as I was before, And would be so, in spite of all he swore. 340 He, against this, right sagely would advise, 345 With some grave sentence out of Holy Writ. Oft would he say, who builds his house on sands, 350 Men, women, clergy, regular, and lay. My spouse (who was, you know, to learning bred) A certain treatise, oft, at ev'ning, read, 356 Where divers authors (whom the dev'l confound For all their lies) were in one volume bound. Valerius, whole; and of St. Jerome, part; Chrysippus and Tertullian, Ovid's Art, 360 Solomon's Proverbs, Eloïsa's loves, And many more than sure the Church approves. More legends were there, here, of wicked wives, It chanc'd my husband, on a winter's night, And the dire ambush Clytemnestra laid: 365 370 375 380 But what most pleas'd him was the Cretan dame, 385 And husband-bull-oh monstrous! fie for shame! He had by heart, the whole detail of woe, 390 He read how Arius to his friend complain'd, A fatal tree was growing in his land, On which three wives successively had twin'd 395 A sliding noose, and waver'd in the wind. Where grows this plant (replied the friend) oh! where? For better fruit did never orchard bear. Give me some slip of this most blissful tree, And, in my garden, planted shall it be. 400 Then, how two wives their lords' destruction prove, Through hatred one, and one through too much love; That for her husband mix'd a pois'nous draught, And this, for lust, an am'rous philtre bought: The nimble juice soon seiz'd his giddy head, Frantic at night, and in the morning dead. 405 How some, with swords, their sleeping lords have slain, 410 And some have hammer'd nails into their brain, But when no end of these vile tales I found, When still he read, and laugh'd, and read again, Provok'd to vengeance, three large leaves I tore, 415 And down he settled me, with hearty blows. I condescended to be pleas'd at last. 420 425 430 As for the volume that revil'd the dames, "Twas torn to fragments, and condemn'd to flames. 435 Now Heav'n, on all my husbands gone, bestow Pleasures above, for tortures felt below: That rest they wish'd for, grant them in the grave, THE lines of Pope, in the piece before us, are spirited and easy, and have, properly enough, a free colloquial air. One passage I cannot forbear quoting, as it acquaints us with the writers who were popular in the time of Chaucer. The jocose old woman says, that her husband frequently read to her out of a volume that contained: With many more than sure the Church approves." -Ver. 359. Pope has omitted a stroke of humour; for, in the original, she naturally mistakes the rank and age of St. Jerome; the lines must be transcribed : "Yclepid Valerie and Theophrast, At which boke he lough alway full fast; And eke there was a clerk sometime in Rome, A cardinal, that hightin St. Jerome, That made a boke agenst Jovinian, In which boke there was eke Tertullian, In the library which Charles V. founded in France about the year 1376, among many books of devotion, astrology, chemistry, and romance, there was not one copy of Tully to be found, and no Latin poet but Ovid, Lucan, and Boethius; some French translations of Livy, Valerius Maximus, and St. Austin's City of God. He placed these in one of the towers, called The Tower of the Library. This was the foundation of the present magnificent royal library at Paris. The tale, to which this is the prologue, has been versified by Dryden. and is supposed to have been of Chaucer's own invention; as is the exquisite Vision of the Flower and the Leaf, which has received a thousand new graces from the spirited and harmonious Dryden. It is to his Fables, (next to his Music Ode,) written when he was above seventy years old, that Dryden will chiefly owe his immortality; and among these, particularly to the well-conducted tale of Palamon and Arcite, the pathetic picture of Sigismunda, the wild and terrible graces of Theodore and Honoria, and the sportive pleasantry of Cymon and Iphigenia. These pieces of Chaucer were not the only ones that were versified by Pope. Mr. Harte assured me, that he was convinced by some circumstances which Fenton, his friend, communicated to him, that Pope wrote the characters that make the introduction to the Canterbury Tales, published under the name of Betterton.-Warton. |