were great inventors: for Ovid only copied the, Grecian fables; and most of Chaucer's ftories were taken from his Italian contemporaries, or their predeceffors. Boccace's Decameron was firft publifhed; and from thence our Englishman has borrowed many of his Canterbury tales: yet that of Palamon and Arcite was written in all probability by fome Italian wit, in a former age; as I thall prove hereafter the tale of Grizild was the invention of Petrarch; by him fent to Boccace: from whom it came to Chaucer: Troilus and Creffida was alfo written by a Lombard au r; but much amplified by our English translator, as well as beautified; the genius of our countrymen in general being rather to improve an invention, than to invent themfelves; as is evident not only in our poetry, but in many of our manufactures. 1 find I have anticipated already, and taken up from Boccace before I come to him: but there is fo much lefs behind; and I am of the temper of moft kings, who love to be in debt; are all for prefent money, no matter how they pay it afterwards: befides, the nature of a preface is rambling; never wholly out of the way, nor in it. This I have learned from the practice of honeft Montaign, and return at my pleasure to Ovid and Chaucer, of whom I have little more to fay. Both of them built on the inventions of other men; yet fince Chaucer had fomething of his own, as The Wife of Bath's Tale, The Cock and the Fox, which I have tranflated, and fome others, I may juftly give our countryman the precedence in that part; fince I can remember nothing of Ovid which was wholly his. Both of them understood the manners, under which name I comprehend the paflions, and, in a larger fenfe, the defcriptions of perfons, and their very habits; for an example, I see Baucis and Philemon as perfect ly before me, as if fome ancient painter had drawn them; and all the pilgrims in the Canterbury ales, their humours, their features, and the very drefs, as diftinctly as if I had fupped with them at the Tabard in Southwark: yet even there too the figures in Chancer are much more lively, and fet in a better light which though I have not time to prove; yet I appeal to the reader, and am fure he will clear me from partiality. The thoughts and words remain to be confidered in the comparison of the two poets; and I have Javed myself one half of that labour, by owning that Ovid lived when the Roman tongue was in its meridian; Chaucer, in the dawning of our language: therefore that part of the comparifon flands not on an equal foot, any more than the diction of Engins and Ovid; or of Chaucer and our prefent English. The words are given up as a poft not to be defended in our poet, because he wanted the modern art of fortifying. The thoughts remain to be confidered: and they are to be ancafured only by their propriety; that is, as they flow more or lefs naturally from the perfons de1cribed, on fach and fuch occafions. The vulgar judges, which are nine parts in ten of all nations, who call conceits and jingles wit, who fee Ovid full of them, and Chaucer altogether without

them, will think me little less than mad, for preferring the Englishman to the Roman: yet, with their leave, I must presume to say, that the things they admire, are not only glittering trifles, and so far from being witty, that in a serious poem they are naufeous, because they are unnatural. Would any man, who is ready to die for love, defcribe his paflion like Narciffus? Would he think of "inopem me copia fecit," and a dozen more of fuch expreflions, poured on the neck of one another, and fignifying all the fame thing? If this were wit, was this a time to be witty, when the poor wretch was in the agony of death! This is juft John Littlewit in Bartholemew Fair, who had a conceit (as he tells you) left him in his mifery; a mijerable conceit. On these occafions the poet hould endeavour to raise pity: but, instead of this, Ovid is tickling you to laugh. Virgil never made use of such machines, when he was moving you to commiferate the death of Dido: he would not deftroy what he was building. Chaucer makes Arcite violent in his love, and unjust in the purfuit of it: yet when he came to die, he made him think more reasonably: he repents not of his love, for that had altered his character; but acknowledges the injustice of his proceedings, and refigns Emilia to Palamon. What would Ovid have done on this occafion? He would certainly have made Arcite witty on his death-bed. He had complained he was farther off from poffeffion, by being so near, and a thousand fuch boyifms, which Chaucer rejected as below the dignity of the fubject. They, who think otherwife, would by the fame reafon prefer Lucan and Ovid to Homer and Virgil, and Martial to all four of them. A for the turn of words, in which Ovid particularly excels all poets; they are fometimes a fault, and fometimes à beauty, as they are used properly or improperly; but in ftrong paffions always to be fhunned, because paffions are ferious, and will admit, no playing. The French have a high value for them; and I confess, they are often what they call delicate, when they are introduced with judg ment; but Chaucer writ with more fimplicity, and followed nature more clofely, than to ule them. I have thus far, to the best of my knowledge; been an upright judge betwixt the parties in competition, not meddling with the defign nor the difpofition of it; because the defign was not their own; and in the difpofing of it they were equal. It remains that I fay fomewhat of Chaucer in particular.

In the first place, as he is the father of English poetry, fo I hold him in the fame degree of vene. ration as the Grecians held Homer, or the Romans Virgil: he is a perpetual fountain of good fente; learned in all sciences; and therefore speaks properly on all fubjects: as he knew what to lay, To he knows alfo when to leave off; a continence which is practifed by few writers, and scarcely by any of the ancients, excepting Virgil and Horace, One of our late great poets is funk in his reputa tion, because he could never forgive any conceit which came in his way; but fwept like a drag net, great and small. There was plenty enough,

but the dishes were ill-forted; whole pyramids of fweet-meats, for boys and women; but little of folid meat, for men all this proceeded not from any want of knowledge, but of judgment; neither did he want that in difcerning 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 efteemed a good writer; and for ten impreffions, which his works have had in fo many fucceflive years, yet at prefent a hundred books are fcarcely purchased once a twelvemonth: for, as my laft Lord Ro chefter faid, though fomewhat profanely, Not being of God, he could not stand.

it to be admired, that Henry, who was a wife, as well as a valiant prince, who claimed by fucceffion, and was sensible that his title was not found, but was rightfully in Mortimer, who had married. the heir of York; it was not to be admired, I fay, if that great politician fhould be pleased to have the greatest wit of thofe times in his interefts, and to be the trumpet of his praifes. Auguftus had given him the example, by the advice of Mecenas, who recommended Virgil and Horace to him, whofe praises helped to make him popular while he was alive, and after his death, have made him precious to pofterity. As for the religion of our poet, he feems to have fome little bias towards the opinions of Wickliff, after John of Gaunt his patron; fomewhat of which appears in the tale of Piers Plowman: yet I cannot blame him for inveighing fo fharply against the vices of the clergy in his age: their pride, their ambition, their pomp, their avarice, their worldly interest, deserved the lafhes which he gave them, both in that, and in most of his Canterbury tales: neither has his contemporary Boccace spared them. Yet both these poets lived in much efteem with good and holy men in orders; for the fcandal which is given by particular priests, reflects not on the facred function. Chaucer's Monk, his Chanon, and his Fryer, took not from the character of his Good Parfon. A fatyrical poet is the check of the laymen, on bad pricfts. We are only to take care, that we involve not the innocent with the guilty in the fame condemnation. The good cannot be too much honoured, nor the bad too coarsely used; for the corruption of the best becomes the worst. When a clergyman is whipped, his gown is first taken off, by which the dignity of his order is fecured: if he be wrongfully accufed, he has his action of flander; and it is at the poet's peril, if he tranfgrefs the law. But they will tell us, that all kind of satire, though never fo well deferved by particular priests, yet brings the whole order into contempt. Is then the peerage of England any thing difhonoured, when a peer fuffers for his treafon? If he be libelled, or any way defamed, he has his "Scandalum Magnatum" to punish the offender. They, who use this kind of argument, feem to be confcious to themselves of fomewhat which has deserved the poet's lash; and are lef's concerned for their public capacity, than for their private; at least there is pride at the bottom of their reafoning. If the faults of men in orders. are all only to be judged among themfelves, they are in fome fort parties; for, fince they say the honour of their order is concerned in every member of it, how can we be fure, that they will be impartial judges? How far I may be allowed to fpeak my opinion in this cafe, I know not; but I am fure a dispute of this nature caused mifchief in abundance betwixt a king of England and an archbishop of Canterbury; one ftanding up for the laws of his land, and the other for the honour (as he called it) of God's Church; which ended in the murder of the prelate, and in the whipping of his majefty from poft to pillar for his

Chaucer followed nature every where; but was never fo 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 modeft behaviour and affectation. The verfe of Chaucer, I confefs, is not harmonious to us; but it is like the eloquence of one whom Tacitus commends, it was "auribus iftius temporis accommo"data" they who lived with him, and fome time after him, thought it musical; and it conținues fo even in our judgment, if compared with the numbers of Lidgate and Gower, his contemporaries: there is the rude fweetness of a Scotch tune in it, which is natural and pleasing, though not perfect. It is true, I cannot go fo far as he who published the laft edition of him; for he would make us believe the fault is in our ears, and that there were really ten fyllables in a verse where we find but nine; but this opinion is not worth confuting; it is fo grofs and obvious an error, that common fenfe, (which is a rule in every thing 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 Chaucer's age. It were an eafy matter to produce fome thousands of his verfes, which are lame for want of half a foot, and fometimes a whole one, and which no pronunciation can make otherwife. We can only fay, that he lived in the infancy of our poetry, and that nothing is brought to perfection at the firft. We must be children before we grow men. There was an Ennius, and in procefs of time a Lacilius and a Lucretius, before Virgil and Horace; even after Chaucer, there was a Spenser, a Harrington, a Fairfax, before Waller and Denham were in being; and our numbers were in their nonage till these last appeared. I need fay little of his parentage, life, and fortunes; they are to be found at large in all the editious of his works. He was employed abroad, and favoured by Edward the Third, Richard the Second, and Henry the Fourth, and was peet, as I fuppofe, to all three of them. In Richard's time, I doubt, he was a little dipt in the rebellion of the commons; and, being brother-in-law to John of Gaunt, it was no wonder if he followed the fortunes of that family; and was well with Henry the Fourth when he had depofed his predeceffor. Neither is

I have almost done with Chaucer, when I have answered fome objections relating to my prefent work. I find fome people are offended that I have turned these tales into modern English; because they think them unworthy of my pains, and look on Chaucer as a dry, old-fashioned wit, not worth reviving. I have often heard the late Earl of Leicester say, that Mr. Cowley himself was of that opinion; who, having read him over at my lord's requeft, declared he had no taste of him. I dare not advance my opinion against the judgment of fo great an author; but I think it fair, however, to leave the decision to the pub lic: Mr. Cowley was too modeft to set up for a dictator; and being fhocked perhaps with his old ftile, never examined into the depth of his good fenfe. Chaucer, I confefs, is a rough diamond and must first be polished, e'er he fhines. I deny not likewife, that, living in our early days of poetry, he writes not always of a piece; but fometimes mingles trivial things with thofe of greater moment. Sometimes alfo, though not often, he runs riot, like Ovid, and knows not when he has faid enough. But there are more great wits befides Chaucer, whofe fault is their excefs of conceits, and thofe ill forted. An author is not to write all he can, but only all he ought. Having obferved this redundancy in Chaucer (as it is an eafy matter for a man of ordinary parts to find a fault in one of greater), I have not tied myself to a literal tranflation; but have often omitted what I judged unneceffary, or not of dignity enough to appear in the company of better thoughts. I have prefumed farther, in fome places, and added somewhat of my own where I thought my author was deficient, and had not given his thoughts their true luftre, for want of words in the beginning of our language. And to this I was the more emboldened, becaufe (if I may be permitted to say it of myfelf) I found I I had a foul congenial to his, and that I had been converfant in the fame ftudies. Another poet, in another age, may take the fame liberty with my writings, if at least they live long enough to deferve correction. It was alfo neceffary fometimes to reftore the fenfe of Chaucer, which was loft or mangled in the errors of the prefs: let this example fuffice at prefent; in the ftory of Palamon and Arcite, where the temple of Diana is defcribed, you find these verses in all the editions of our author:

There faw I Danè turned into a tree,
1 mean not the goddess Diane,

But Venus daughter, which that hight Dane. Which, after a little confideration, I knew was to be reformed into this fenfe, that Daphne the daughter of Peneus was turned into a tree. I durft not make thus bold with Ovid, left fome future Milbourn fhould arife, and fay, I varied from my author, because I understood him not. But there are other judges who think I ought not to have tranflated Chaucer into English, out of a quite contrary notion: they fuppofe there is

a certain veneration due to his old language, and that it is little less than profanation and facrilege to alter it. They are farther of opinion, that fomewhat of his good fenfe will fuffer in this transfufion, and much of the beauty of his thoughts will infallibly be loft, which appear with more grace in their old habit. Of this opinion was that excellent perfon whom I mentioned, the late Earl of Leicester, who valued Chaucer as much as Mr. Cowley defpifed him. My Lord diffuaded me from this attempt, (for I was thinking of it fome years before his death) and his authority prevailed fo far with me, as to defer my undertaking while he lived, in deference to him yet my reafon was not convinced with what he urged against it. If. the first end of a writer be to be understood, then, as his language grows obfolete, thoughts must grow obfcure :

"Multa renafcentur quæ jam cecidere; cadentque, "Quæ nunc funt in honore vocabula; fi volet ufus, "Quem penès arbitrium est, & jus, & norma lo"quendi."

When an ancient word for its found and fignificancy deferves to be revived, I have that reafonable 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 fiIently repealed, when the reafon ceases 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 underfood, which is the prefent cafe. I grant that fomething must be loft in all transfufion, that is, in all tranflations; but the fenfe will remain, which would otherwife be loft, or at least be maimed, when it is fearce intelligible; and that but to a few. How few are there who can read Chaucer, fo as to understand him perfectly! And if imperfectly, then with lefs profit and no pleafure. It is not for the ufe of fome old Saxon friends, that I have taken these pains with him: let them neglect my verfion, because they have no need of it. I made it for their fakes who underflood fenfe and poetry as well as they, when that poetry and fenfe is put into words which they understand. 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 heard him up, as milers do their grandam gold, only to look on it themselves, and hinder others from making use of it. In fum, I feriously proteft, that no man ever had, or can have, a greater veneration for Chaucer than myfelf. I have tranflated fome part of his works, only that I might perpetuate his memory, or at