Chapter 2

Previous to this the chief of the poets, after the Conquest, were Normans. The country whence that people came had for some time been celebrated for poetry. France was, as to its poetic literature, divided into two great sections--the Provencal and the Northern. The first was like the country where it flourished--gay, flowery, and exuberant; it swam in romance, and its rhymers delighted, when addressing large audiences under the open skies of their delightful climate, to indulge in compliment and fanfaronade, to sing of war, wine, and love.

The Normans produced a race of simpler poets. That some of them were men as well as singers, is proved by the fact that it was a bard named Taillefer who first broke the English ranks at the battle of Hastings. After him came Philippe de Thaun, who tried to set to song the science of his day; Thorold, the author of a romance entitled 'Roland;' Samson de Nauteuil, the translator of Solomon's Proverbs into French verse; Geoffrey Gaimar, who wrote a Chronicle of the Saxon kings; and one David, a minstrel of no little note and power in his day. But a more remarkable writer succeeded, and his work, like Aaron's rod, swallowed up all the productions of these clever but petty poets. This was Wace, commonly called Maistre Wace, a native of Jersey. In 1160, or as some say 1155, Wace finished his 'Brut d'Angleterre' which is in reality a translation into French of Geoffrey of Monmouth, who wrote a History of Britain from the imaginary Brutus of Troy down to Cadwallader in 689. Literature owes not a little to Wace's poem. He collected into a permanent shape a number of traditions and legends--many of them interesting--which had been floating through Europe, just as Macpherson preserved in Ossian not a few real fragments of the songs of Selma. And, as we shall see immediately, Wace's production became the basis of the earliest of English poems.

Maistre Wace is the author also of a History of the Normans, which he calls 'Roman de Rou;' or, 'The Romance of Rollo.' He was a great favourite with Henry II., who bestowed on him a canonry in the Cathedral of Bayeux. Besides Wace, there flourished about the same time Benoit, who wrote a History of the Dukes of Normandy; and Guernes, a churchman of Pont St Maxence in Picardy, who wrote in verse a Life of St Thomas a Becket.

At the beginning of the century following the Conquest, the chief authors, such as Peter of Blois, John of Salisbury, Joseph of Exeter, and Geoffrey of Monmouth, all wrote in Latin. Layamon, however, a priest of Ernesley- upon-Severn, used the vernacular in a poem which, as we have already hinted, was essentially a translation of Wace's 'Brut d'Angleterre.' The most remarkable thing about Layamon's poem is the language in which it is written-language in which you catch English in the very act of chipping the Saxon shell, or, as Campbell happily remarks, 'the style of Layamon is as nearly the intermediate state of the old and new languages as can be found in any ancient specimen --something like the new insect stirring its wings before it has shaken off the aurelia state.'

Between Layamon and Robert of Gloucester a good many miscellaneous strains--some of a satirical, others of an amatory, and others again of a legendary and devout style--were produced. It was customary then for minstrels, at the instance of the clergy, to sing on Sundays devotional strains on the harp to the assembled multitudes. At public entertainments, during week-days, gay ditties were common. One of these is extant, but is too coarse for quotation. It is entitled 'The Land of Cokayne,' an allegorical satire on the luxury and vice of the Church, given under the description of an imaginary paradise, in which the nuns are represented as houris, and the black and grey monks as their paramours. 'Richard of Alemaine' is a ballad, composed by an adherent of Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester, after the defeat of the Royal party at the battle of Lewes in 1264. In the year after that battle the Royal cause rallied, and the Earl of Warren and Sir Hugh Bigod returned from exile, and helped the King in his victory. In the battle of Lewes, Richard, King of the Romans, his brother Henry III., and Prince Edward, with many others of the Royal party, were taken prisoners. [Note: See 'Richard of Alemaine,' Percy's Reliques, vol. ii., p. 2.]

The spirit and the allusions of this song shew that it was composed by Leicester's party in the moment of their victory, and not after the reaction which took place against their cause, and it must therefore belong to the thirteenth century. To this period, too, probably belongs a political satire, published by Ritson, and which Campbell thus charac- terises:--'It is a ballad on the execution of the Scottish patriots, Sir William Wallace and Sir Simon Frazer. The diction is as barbarous as we should expect from a song of triumph on such a subject. It relates the death and treatment of Wallace very minutely. The circumstance of his being covered with a mock crown of laurel in Westminster Hall, which Stow repeats, is there mentioned, and that of his legs being fastened with iron fetters "_under his horse's wombe_" is told with savage exultation. The piece was probably indited in the very year of the political murders which it celebrates, certainly before 1314, as it mentions the skulking of Robert Bruce, which, after the battle of Bannockburn, must have become a jest out of season.'

Campbell quotes a love-ditty of this period, which is not devoid of merit:--

'For her love I cark and cave, For her love I droop and dare, For her love my bliss is bare, And all I wax wan.

'For her love in sleep I slake,[1] For her love all night I wake, For her love mourning I make More than any man.'

[1] 'In sleep I slake:' am deprived of sleep.

And another of a pastoral vein:--

'When the nightingale singes the woods waxen green, Leaf, grass, and blossom springs in Avril I ween, And love is to my heart gone, with one spear so keen, Night and day my blood it drinks, my heart doth me teen.'

About a hundred years after Layamon (in 1280) appeared a poet not dissimilar to him, named Robert of Gloucester. His surname is unknown, and so are the particulars of his history. We know only that he was a monk of Gloucester Abbey, that he lived in the reigns of Henry III. and Edward I., and that he translated the Legends of Geoffrey of Monmouth, and continued the History of England down to the time of Edward I. This work is wonder- fully minute, and, generally speaking, accurate in its topography as well as narrative, and was of service to Selden when he wrote his Notes to Drayton's 'Polyolbion.' It is more valuable in this respect than as a piece of imagination.

He narrates the grandest events--such as the first crusaders bursting into Asia, with a sword of fire hung in the firmament before them, and beckoning them on their way--as coolly as he might the emigration of a colony of ants. Yet, although there is little animation or poetry in his general manner, he usually succeeds in riveting the reader's attention; and the speeches he puts into the mouths of his heroes glow with at least rhetorical fire. And as a critic truly remarks--'Injustice to the ancient versifier, we should remember that he had still only a rude language to employ, the speech of boors and burghers, which, though it might possess a few songs and satires, could afford him no models of heroic narration. In such an age the first occupant passes uninspired over subjects which might kindle the highest enthusiasm in the poet of a riper period, as the savage treads unconsciously in his deserts over mines of incalculable value, without sagacity to discover or inplements to explore them.' We give the following extracts from Robert of Gloucester's poem:--

THE SPOUTS AND SOLEMNITIES WHICH FOLLOWED KING ARTHUR'S CORONATION.

The king was to his palace, tho the service was ydo,[1] Yled with his meinie,[2] and the queen to her also. For they held the old usages, that men with men were By themselve, and women by themselve also there. When they were each one yset, as it to their state become, Kay, king of Anjou, a thousand knightes nome[3] Of noble men, yclothed in ermine each one Of one suit, and served at this noble feast anon. Bedwer the botyler, king of Normandy, Nome also in his half a fair company Of one suit for to serve of the hotelery. Before the queen it was also of all such courtesy, For to tell all the nobley that there was ydo, Though my tongue were of steel, me should nought dure thereto. Women ne kept of no knight in druery,[4] But he were in arms well yproved, and atte least thrye.[5] That made, lo, the women the chaster life lead, And the knights the stalwarder, and the better in their deed. Soon after this noble meat, as right was of such tide, The knights atyled them about in eache side, In fields and in meadows to prove their bachlery,[6] Some with lance, some with sword, without villany, With playing at tables, other atte chekere,[7] With casting, other with setting,[8] other in some other mannere. And which so of any game had the mastery, The king them of his giftes did large courtesy. Up the alurs[9] of the castle the ladies then stood, And beheld this noble game, and which knights were good. All the three exte dayes[10] ylaste this nobley, In halle's and in fieldes, of meat and eke of play. These men come the fourth day before the kinge there, And he gave them large gifts, ever as they worthy were. Bishoprics and churches' clerks he gave some, And castles and townes knights that were ycome.

[1] 'Tho the service was ydo:' when the service was done. [2] 'Meinie:' attendants. [3] 'Nome': brought. [4] 'Druery.' modesty, decorum. [5] 'Thrye:' thrice. [6] 'Bachlery:' chivalry, courage, or youth. [7] 'Chekere:' chess. [8] 'With casting, other with setting:' different ways of playing at chess. [9] 'Alurs:' walks made within the battlements of the castle. [10] 'Exte dayes:' high, or chief days.

AN OLD TRADITION.

It was a tradition invented by the old fablers that giants brought the stones of Stonehenge from the most sequestered deserts of Africa, and placed them in Ireland; that every stone was washed with juices of herbs, and contained a medical power; and that Merlin, the magician, at the request of King Arthur, transported them from Ireland, and erected them in circles on the plain of Amesbury, as a sepulchral monument for the Britons treacherously slain by Hengist. This fable is thus delivered, without decoration, by Robert of Glocester:--

'Sir king,' quoth Merlin then, 'such thinge's ywis Ne be for to shew nought, but when great need is, For if I said in bismare, other but it need were, Soon from me he would wend, the ghost that doth me lere.'[1] The king, then none other n'as, bid him some quaintise Bethink about thilk cors that so noble were and wise.[2] 'Sir King,' quoth Merlin then, 'if thou wilt here cast In the honour of men, a work that ever shall ylast, To the hill of Kylar[3] send in to Ireland, After the noble stones that there habbet[4] long ystand; That was the treche of giants,[5] for a quainte work there is Of stones all with art ymade, in the world such none is. Ne there n'is nothing that me should myd[6] strength adowne cast. Stood they here, as they doth there, ever a woulde last.' The king somdeal to-lygh[7], when he hearde this tale: 'How might,' he said, 'such stones, so great and so fale,[8] Be ybrought of so far land? And yet mist of were, Me would ween that in this lande no stone to wonke n'ere.' Sir king,' quoth Merlin, 'ne make nought an idle such laughing; For it n'is an idle nought that I tell this tiding. For in the farrest stude of Afric giants while fet [9] These stones for medicine and in Ireland them set, While they wonenden in Ireland to make their bathe's there, There under for to bathe when they sick were. For they would the stones wash and therein bathe ywis; For is no stone there among that of great virtue n'is.' The king and his counsel rode the stones for to fet, And with great power of battle if any more them let. Uther, the kinge's brother, that Ambrose hett[10] also, In another name ychose was thereto, And fifteen thousand men, this deede for to do, And Merlin for his quaintise thither went also.

[1] If I should say any thing out of wantonness or vanity, the spirit which teaches me would immediately leave me. [2] Bade him use his cunning, for the sake of the bodies of those noble and wise Britons. [3] 'Kylar:' Kildare. [4] 'Habbet:' have. [5] 'The treche of giants:' 'The dance of giants.' The name of this collection of immense stones. [6] 'Myd:' with. [7] 'Somdeal to-lygh:' somewhat laughed. [8] 'Fale:' many. [9] Giants once brought them from the furthest part of Africa. [10] 'Hett:' was called.

ARTHUR'S INTRIGUE WITH YGERNE.

At the feast of Easter the king sent his sond,[1] That they comen all to London the high men of this lond, And the ladies all so good, to his noble feast wide, For he shoulde crown here, for the high tide. All the noble men of this land to the noble feast come, And their wives and their daughtren with them many nome,[2] This feast was noble enow, and nobliche ydo; For many was the fair lady that ycome was thereto. Ygerne, Gorloys' wife, was fairest of each one, That was Countess of Cornewall, for so fair n'as there none. The king beheld her fast enow, and his heart on her cast, And thoughte, though he were wise, to do folly at last. He made her semblant fair enow, to none other so great. The earl n'as not therewith ypayed[3], when he it under get. After meat he nome his wife myd[4] sturdy med enow, And, without leave of the king, to his country drow. The king sente to him then, to byleve[5] all night, For he must of great counsel have some insight. That was for nought. Would he not, the king sent yet his sond, That he byleved at his parlement, for need of the lond. The king was, when he n'olde not, anguyssous and wroth. For despite he would a-wreak be he swore his oath, But he come to amendement. His power atte last He garked, and went forth to Cornewall fast. Gorloys his castles a store all about. In a strong castle he did his wife, for of her was all his doubt, In another himself he was, for he n'olde nought, If cas[6] come, that they were both to death ybrought. The castle, that the earl in was, the king besieged fast, For he might not his gins for shame to the other cast. Then he was there seen not, and he spedde nought, Ygerne, the countesse, so much was in his thought, That he nuste none other wit, ne he ne might for shame Tell it but a privy knight, Ulfyn was his name, That he truste most to. And when the knight heard thia, 'Sir,' he said, 'I ne can wit, what rede hereof is, For the castle is so strong, that the lady is in, For I ween all the land ne should it myd strengthe win. For the sea goeth all about, but entry one there n'is, And that is up on harde rocks, and so narrow way it is, That there may go but one and one, that three men within Might slay all the laud, ere they come therein. And nought for then, if Merlin at the counsel were, If any might, he couthe the best rede thee lere.'[7] Merlin was soon of sent, pled it was him soon, That he should the best rede say, what were to don. Merlin was sorry enow for the kinge's folly, And natheless, 'Sir king,' he said, 'there may to mast'ry, The earl hath two men him near, Brithoel and Jordan. I will make thyself, if thou wilt, through art that I can, Have all the forme of the earl, as thou were right he, And Olfyn as Jordan, and as Brithoel me.' This art was all clean ydo, that all changed they were, They three in the others' form, the solve as it were. Against even he went forth, nuste[8] no man that cas; To the castle they come right as it even was. The porter ysaw his lord come, and his most privy twei, With good heart he let his lord in, and his men bey. The countess was glad enow, when her lord to her come And either other in their arms myd great joy nome. When they to bedde come, that so long a-two were, With them was so great delight, that between them there Begot was the best body, that ever was in this land, King Arthur the noble man, that ever worthy understand. When the king's men nuste amorrow, where he was become, They fared as wodemen, and wend[9] he were ynome.[10] They assaileden the castle, as it should adown anon, They that within were, garked them each one, And smote out in a full will, and fought myd there fone: So that the earl was yslaw, and of his men many one, And the castle was ynome, and the folk to-sprad there, Yet, though they hadde all ydo, they ne found not the king there. The tiding to the countess soon was ycome, That her lord was yslaw, and the castle ynome. And when the messenger him saw the earl, as him thought, That he had so foul plow, full sore him of thought, The countess made somedeal deol,[11] for no sothness they nuste. The king, for to glad her, beclipt her and cust. 'Dame,' he said,' no sixt thou well, that les it is all this: Ne wo'st thou well I am alive. I will thee say how it is. Out of the castle stillelich I went all in privity, That none of mine men it nuste, for to speak with thee. And when they mist me to-day, and nuste where I was, They fareden right as giddy men, myd whom no rede n'as, And foughte with the folk without, and have in this mannere Ylore the castle and themselve, and well thou wo'st I am here. And for my castle, that is ylore, sorry I am enow, And for my men, that the king and his power slew. And my power is to lute, therefore I dreade sore, Leste the king us nyme[12] here, and sorrow that we were more. Therefore I will, how so it be, wend against the king, And make my peace with him, ere he us to shame bring.' Forth he went, and het[13] his men if the king come, That they shoulde him the castle yield, ere he with strength it nome. So he come toward his men, his own form he nome, And leaved the earl's form, and the king Uther become. Sore him of thought the earle's death, and in other half he found Joy in his heart, for the countess of spousehed was unbound, When he had that he would, and paysed[14] with his son, To the countess he went again, me let him in anon. "What halt[15] it to tale longe? but they were set at one, In great love long enow, when it n'olde other gon; And had together this noble son, that in the world his pere n'as, The king Arthur, and a daughter, Anne her name was.

[1] 'Sond' message. [2] 'Nome:' took. [3] 'Ypayed:' satisfied. [4] 'Myd:' with. [5] 'Byleve:' stay. [6] 'Cas:' chance. [7] 'Lere:' teach. [8] 'Nuste:' knew. [9] 'Wend:' thought. [10] 'Ynome:' taken. [11] 'Deol:' grief. [12] 'Nyme:' take. [13] 'Het:' bade. [14] 'Paysed:' made peace. [15] 'Halt:' holdeth.

The next name of note is Robert, commonly called De Brunne. His real name was Robert Manning. He was born at Malton in Yorkshire; for some time belonged to the house of Sixhill, a Gilbertine monastery in Yorkshire; and afterwards became a member of Brunne or Browne, a priory of black canons in the same county. When monastical writers became famous, they were usually designated from the religious houses to which they belonged. Thus it was with Matthew of Westminster, William of Malmesbury, and John of Glastonbury--all received their appellations from their respective monasteries. De Brunne's principal work is a Chronicle of the History of England, in rhyme. It can in no way be considered an original production, but is partly translated, and partly compiled from the writings of Maistre Wace and Peter de Langtoft, which latter was a canon of Bridlington in Yorkshire, of Norman origin, but born in England, and the author of an entire History of his country in French verse, down to the end of the reign of Edward I. Brunne's Chronicle seems to have been written about the year 1303. We extract the Prologue, and two other passages:--

THE PROLOGUE.

'Lordlinges that be now here, If ye wille listen and lere, All the story of England, As Robert Mannyng written it fand, And in English has it shewed, Not for the leared but for the lewed;[1] For those that on this land wonn That the Latin ne Frankys conn,[2] For to have solace and gamen In fellowship when they sit samen, And it is wisdom for to witten The state of the land, and have it written, "What manner of folk first it wan, And of what kind it first began. And good it is for many things, For to hear the deeds of kings, Whilk were fools, and whilk were wise, And whilk of them couth[3] most quaintise; And whilk did wrong, and whilk right, And whilk maintained peace and fight. Of their deedes shall be my saw, In what time, and of what law, I shall you from gre to gre,[4] Since the time of Sir Noe: From Noe unto Eneas, And what betwixt them was, And from Eneas till Brutus' time, That kind he tells in this rhyme. For Brutus to Cadwallader's, The last Briton that this land lees. All that kind and all the fruit That come of Brutus that is the Brute; And the right Brute is told no more Than the Britons' time wore. After the Britons the English camen, The lordship of this land they nameu; South and north, west and east, That call men now the English gest. When they first among the Britons, That now are English then were Saxons, Saxons English hight all oliche. They arrived up at Sandwiche, In the kings since Vortogerne That the land would them not werne, &c. One Master Wace the Frankes tells The Brute all that the Latin spells, From Eneas to Cadwallader, &c. And right as Master Wace says, I tell mine English the same ways,' &c.

[1] 'Lowed:' ignorant. [2] 'Conn:' know. [3] 'Couth:' knew. [4] 'Gre:' step.

KING VORTIGERN'S MEETING WITH PRINCESS KODWEN.