Chapter 7

[20] Conclusion of Mary's Fables.

[21] Phaedr. Prolog. lib. i.

[22] Preface to Mary's Fables.

[23] Fabric. Bibl. Latin, lib. ii. c. 3.

[24] Preface to the Fables of Mary

[25] Vincent Bellovac, lib. iv. c. 2.

[26] Fabric. loco citato.

[27] Menage Diction. Etymol. V. Romans. Duchesne, Oeuvres de Maistre Alain Chartris, p. 861.

[28] Pasquier Recherches, liv. viii. c. 1.

[29] Asser, Vita Alfredi, Malsmb.

[30] Madox's Hist. of the Exchequer, c. 4.

[31] Ordoric. Vitalis Hist. apud Duchesne, pp. 488, 681, & 1084.

[32] See his Works amongst the Harleian MSS. No. 4333.

APPENDIX II.

MARIE'S LAYS.

Versions of only two of the Lays can be given; but it will be better to lay before the reader an abstract of the whole collection, which is in many respects interesting, because it was certainly written in this country, was never printed, and is known to exist only in one manuscript, viz. Harl. MSS. No. 978.

About 56 lines at the beginning of the work are intended as a general prologue; and 26 more form the introduction to the first Lay. This prefatory matter is written in a style of considerable obscurity, which the author defends by the example of the ancients, and quotes Priscian as her authority. But the doctrine she means to inculcate is, that those who possess talents are bound to employ them; and that study is always good as a preservative from vice and from affliction. She tells us, she had therefore form'd a plan of translating, from Latin into romance, _some good history_, but found her project had been anticipated by others. She then thought of the numerous lays which she _had heard, and carefully treasured in her memory_. These, she was sure, must be new to the generality of her readers; and, in this confidence, she offers to the king the fruits of her labours. After complaining she has met with envy and persecution where she deserved praise, she declares her intention to persevere, and relate, as briefly as possible, such stories as she _knows to be true_, and to have been _formed into lays by the Britons_.

Les contes ke jeo sai _rerrais, Dunt li Bretun ont fait ces lais_, Vus conterai asez briefment, &c.

The Lays are twelve in number; nine of which, with the above introduction, are extracted, with some trifling abridgment, from the Specimens of early English Metrical Romances, by George Ellis, Esq.; the two in verse from Way's Fabliaux; and the other from the notes to Sir Tristrem, by Walter Scott, Esq.

No. 1.--_The Lay of_ SIR GUGEMER, _or_ GUIGEMAR.

While Arthur reign'd, (so chim'd, in earlier day, Loud to the twanging harp the Breton lay,) While Arthur reign'd, two kingdoms born to bless, Great Britain's king, and suzerain of the less; A lord of Leon, one of fair report Among the vassal barons of his court, Own'd for his son a youth more bravely thew'd Than aught both countries yet had seen of good. Dame Nature gave the mould; his sire combin'd Due culture, exercise of limbs and mind, Till the rare strippling, now no longer boy, Chang'd his fond parents' fearful hope for joy.

His name was Gugemar: as strength grew on, To Arthur's court the sire consign'd his son. There soon in feats of arms the youth excell'd, Magnanimous, in sports, or deadly field.

Chief of the Table-round, from time to time Illustrious Arthur mark'd his opening prime, Then dealt him noble meed; the honour high, From his own hand, of glorious chivalry.

Knightly in arms he was; one grievous blot, So deem'd full many a courtly dame, I wot, Cross'd the full growth of his aspiring days, And dimm'd the lustre of meridian praise: With bootless artifice their lures they troll'd; Still, Gugemer lov'd not, or nothing told. The court's accustom'd love and service done, To his glad sire returns the welcome son. Now with his father dwelt he, and pursued Such pastimes as are meet for youth of noble blood. The woods of Leon now would shrilly sound Oft with his joyous shout and choral hound At length, one morn his disadventurous dart, Lanc'd, as the game was rous'd, at hind or hart, Wing'd through the yielding air its weetless way, And pierc'd unwares a metamorphos'd fay. Lo! back recoiling straight, by fairy craft, Back to its master speeds the reeking shaft; Deep in his sinewy thigh inflicts a wound, And strikes the astonish'd hunter to the ground, While, with a voice which neither bray'd nor spoke, Thus fearfully the beast her silence broke:-- "Pains, agonizing pains must thou endure, Till wit of lady's love shall work the cure: Wo, then, her fated guerdon she shall find The heaviest that may light on womankind!"

Sir Gugemer, who strove, with courage vain, Up from the earth to rise, distraught with pain, While hies his varlet home for succour strong, Crawls slow with trailing limb the sward along; 'Twas part precipitate, steep rocky shore; Hoarse at its foot was heard old Ocean's roar; And in a shelter'd cove at anchor rode, Close into land, where slept the solemn flood, A gallant bark, that with its silken sails Just bellying, caught the gently rising gales, And from its ebon sides shot dazzling sheen Of silvery rays with mingled gold between. A favouring fairy had beheld the blow Dealt the young hunter by her mortal foe: Thence grown his patroness, she vows to save, And cleaves with magick help the sparkling wave: Now, by a strange resistless impulse driven, The knight assays the lot by fortune given: Lo, now he climbs, with fairy power to aid, The bark's steep side, on silken cordage stay'd; Gains the smooth deck, and, wonders to behold, A couch of cypress spread with cloth of gold, While from above, with many a topaz bright, Two golden globes sent forth their branching light: And longer had he gaz'd, but sleep profound, Wrought by the friendly fairy, wrapt him round. Stretch'd on the couch the hunter lies supine, And the swift bark shoots lightly o'er the brine. For, where the distant prospect fading dies, And sea and land seem mingling with the skies, A massy tower of polish'd marble rose; There dwelt the fair physician of his woes: Nogiva was the name the princess bore; Her spouse old, shrewd, suspicious evermore, Here mew'd his lovely consort, young and fair, And watch'd her with a dotard's bootless care. Sure, Love these dotards dooms to jealous pain, And the world's laugh, when all their toil proves vain. This lord, howe'er, did all that mortal elf Could do, to keep his treasure to himself: Stay'd much at home, and when in luckless hour His state affairs would drag him from his tower, Left with his spouse a niece himself had bred, To be the partner of her board and bed; And one old priest, a barren lump of clay, To chant their mass, and serve them day by day. Her prison room was fair; from roof to floor With golden imageries pictur'd o'er; There Venus might be seen, in act to throw Down to the mimick fire that gleam'd below The 'Remedies of Love' Dan Ovid made; Wrathful the goddess look'd, and ill-repaid; And many more than I may well recall, Illumining throughout the sumptuous wall. For the old ghostly guide--to do him right-- He harbour'd in his breast no jailor's spite; Compassionate and poor, he bore in mind His prisoner's health might languish, much confin'd And oft would let her feet and fancy free, Wander along the margin of the sea. There then it chanc'd, upon the level sand, That aunt and niece were pacing hand in hand, When onward to the marble tower they spied With outspread sail the fairy vessel glide: Both felt a momentary fear at first, (As women oft are given to think the worst) And turn'd for flight; but ere they far were fled, Look'd round to view the object of their dread; Then, seeing none on board, they backward hied, Perchance by fairy influence fortified, Where the trim bark was run its course to end, And now both dames its ebon deck ascend; There on a couch, a silken pall beneath, So wrapt in sleep he scarcely seem'd to breathe, Sir Gugemer they spied, defil'd with gore, And with a deadly pale his visage o'er: They fear them life was fled; and much his youth, And much his hap forlorn did move their ruth: With lily hand his heart Nogiva press'd, "It beats!" she cried, "beats strong within his breast!" So loud her sudden voice express'd delight, That from his swoon awoke the wondering knight: His name, his country, straight the dames demand, And what strange craft had steer'd his bark to land? He, on his elbow rais'd, with utterance weak, Such as his feeble strength avail'd to speak, Recounts his piteous chance, his name, his home, How up the vessel's side ere while he clomb, And then sunk down in sleep; but who impell'd Its ebon keel, or tissued canvas swell'd, He wist not: faint, and lacking vital heat, He sought some needful aid from looks so sweet. "So brave a knight!--to yield of succour nought-- What heart of flint could cherish such a thought? Yet where to harbour him, and how to hide?-- The husband not at home, means must be tried!"-- So thought these dames, I ween, that fateful hour, While feebly onward to the marble tower, Propp'd, right and left, by snowy shoulders twain, Sir Gugemer repair'd with mickle pain. There on a bed of down they plac'd their guest, Cleans'd the deep wound, with healing balsam dress'd, Brought, for his plight most fit, choice simple food, And, watchful how he far'd, attendant stood; Till now returning strength grew swiftly on, And his firm voice confess'd his anguish gone. In sooth, the fay, protectress of his worth, Had shower'd down balm, unknown to wights on earth; One night achieves his cure; but other smart Plays o'er the weetless region of his heart; Pains, such as beam from bright Nogiva's eyes, Flit round his bed, and quiral [Errata: genial] slumber flies. Now, as the ruddy rays of morning peer, Him seem'd his kind physician's step drew near; She comes; his cheeks with new-found blushes burn; Nogiva--she, too, blushes in her turn: Love sure had neither spar'd; yet at the last Faintly she asks him how the night had pass'd? O! how the trembling patient then confess'd Strange malady at heart, and banish'd rest: And sued once more for life, restor'd so late, Now hers alone to grant, the mistress of his fate. She speaks assurance kind with witching smile, "No ill from sickness felt so little while!" Yet nought the knight believes; a kiss, I ween, Fell from her dainty lips, and clos'd the scene.

One year or more within some secret bower, So dwelt the knight beneath the marble tower; Thoughts of his sire, at last, how he might bear His son's long absence, so awaken'd care, Needs must he back to Leon: vainly here Sues fond Nogiva's interdicting tear. "Sad leave reluctantly I yield!" she cries, "Yet take this girdle, knit with mystick ties, Wed never dame till first this secret spell Her dextrous hands have loosen'd:--so farewell!" "Never, I swear, my sweet! so weal betide!" With heavy heart Sir Gugemer replied; Then hied him to the gate, when lo! at hand Nogiva's hoary lord is seen to stand, (Brought by the fairy foe's relentless ire,) And lustily he calls for knight and squire: Now with his trusty blade, of temper good, The stout knight clears his course to ocean's flood, Sweeps right and left the scatter'd rout away, And climbs the bark of his protectress fay; Light glides the ebon keel the waters o'er, And his glad footsteps press his native shore.

His father, who had long time, woe-begone, Bewail'd the absence of his darling son; Ween'd the best course to hold him now for life, Should be to link him closely to a wife. Sir Gugemer, urg'd sore, at length avows, He never will take woman's hand for spouse, Save her's, whose fingers, skill'd in ladies' lore, Shall loose that knot his mystick girdle bore.

Straight all that Bretany contain'd of fair, Widows, and dainty maids, the adventure dare: Clerks were they all, I ween; but knots like these May not be loos'd when earthly beauties please.

Thus while it fares with those, in dungeon deep See sad Nogiva never cease to weep! Doom'd by her jealous lord's revengeful mood, The well her beverage, bitter bread her food, Lo there with iron gyves chain'd down she lies, And wails unheard her hopeless miseries: Scarce brooking longer life, but that the thought Of Gugemer some gleams of solace brought: Him would she name full oft, and oft implore Heaven, but to view his winning face once more. Long had she sorrow'd thus; her fairy friend Hears at the last, and bids her sufferings end: Burst by her magic touch the fetters fall, Wide springs the gate, and quakes the obdurate wall; Close to the shore the enchanted pinnace glides, Feels its fair guest within its arching sides, Then ploughs the foaming main with gallant state, Till Bretany's far coast receives the freight. Meriadus--(that name the monarch bore, Where first Nogiva's footsteps prest the shore,) Meriadus such charms not vainly view'd; He saw, felt love, and like a sovereign woo'd: She briefly answers:--"None this heart may move, This bosom none inspire with mutual love, Save he whose skill this girdle shall unbind, Fast round my waist with mystick tie confin'd." Much strove Meriadus, strove much in vain, Strove every courtly gallant of his train: All foil'd alike, he blazons far and wide A tournament, and there the emprize be tried! There who may loose the band, and win the expectant bride! Sir Gugemer, when first the tidings came Of the quaint girdle, and the stranger dame. Ween'd well Nogiva's self, his dame alone, Bore this mysterious knot so like his own. On to the tournament elate he hies, There his liege lady greets his wistful eyes: What now remain'd? "Meriadus! once more I view," he cries, "the mistress I adore; Long have our hearts been one! great king, 'tis thine Twin [Errata: Twain] lovers, sadly sunder'd long, to join. So will I straight do homage, so remain Thy liegeman three full years, sans other gain, Thine with a hundred knights, and I their charge maintain." Brave was the proffer, but it prosper'd nought; Love rul'd alone the unyielding monarch's thought. Then Gugemer vows vengeance, then in arms Speaks stern defy, and claims Nogiva's charms: And, for his cause seem'd good, anon behold Many a strange knight, and many a baron bold, Brought by the tourney's fame, on fiery steeds Couch lance to aid; and mortal strife succeeds. Long time beleagur'd gape the castle walls; First in the breach the indignant monarch falls: Nogiva's lord next meets an equal fate; And Gugemer straight weds the widow'd mate.

No. II.--EQUITAN;

A prince of Bretagne, so passionately attached to chivalrous amusements, that he cared neither for business nor gallantry. Nothing but the necessity of heading his troops could withdraw him from the pleasures of hunting and hawking; and all affairs of state were managed by his steward, a man of equal loyalty and experience. Unfortunately this steward had a beautiful wife: the prince heard her much praised; and insensibly began to think his sport most agreeable, when it conducted him, at the end of the day, to the steward's castle; where he had a natural opportunity of seeing and conversing with the lovely hostess. Overcome by his passion, almost before he was conscious of it, he began by reflecting on the baseness of the part he was preparing to act; and ended, by determining not to endure the misery of privation and disappointment, if he could succeed in seducing her. Having devised, in the course of a sleepless night, as many arguments as were necessary to satisfy his own morality, and formed a plan for securing a long interview, he set off for the chase; returning after a short time, under pretence of sudden indisposition, and retiring to bed, he sent to request a visit from the lady, who then received a very long and eloquent declaration of love. To this she replied, at first, by proper expostulations; but when at length assured, with the utmost solemnity, that if her husband was dead she should become the partner of his throne, she suddenly gave way, and proposed, with his assistance, to destroy the steward, so artfully, that neither should incur the slightest suspicion. Equitan, far from being startled at this atrocious proposition, assured her of his concurrence, and she continued thus: "Return, sir, for the present, to your court; then come to pursue your diversion in this forest, and again take up your abode under our roof. You must once more pretend to be indisposed; cause yourself to be blooded; and on the third day order a bath, invite my husband to bathe and afterwards to dine with you. I will take care to prepare the bathing tubs: that which I destine for him shall be filled with boiling water, so that he will be instantly scalded to death; after which you will call in your and his attendants, and explain to them how your affectionate steward had expired in the act of bathing." At the end of three months every thing was arranged for the execution of this diabolical plot; but the steward, who had risen early for some purpose of business or amusement, happening to stay rather beyond the time, the lovers had met during his absence, forgetting that their guilty project was not yet accomplished. A maid was stationed at the door, near which stood the fatal bath; but the husband returning with precipitation, suddenly forced it open, in spite of her feeble opposition, and discovered his wife in the arms of Equitan. The prince, under the first impulse of surprize and remorse, started from the bed, and, heedlessly plunging into the boiling bath, was instantly suffocated or scalded to death. The husband, almost at the same instant, seized on his guilty partner, and threw her headlong after her paramour. Thus were the wicked punished, by the means which they contrived for the destruction of another; and such is the substance of the lay which was composed by the Bretons under the name of Equitan.

* * * * *

No. III.--LAY LE FRAINE.

This ancient and curious little poem, translated from the French of Marie, is preserved in the Auchinlech MSS. It was communicated by Mr. Walter Scott to Mr. Ellis, and is inserted amongst his Miscellaneous Romances. It is mutilated in two places, and wants the conclusion. These defects are supplied from the French prose.

The prologue begins by observing, that in ancient times, lays, intended to be accompanied by the harp, were composed on all sorts of subjects.

Some both of war, and some of woe; And some of joy and mirth also; And some of treachery and of guile; Of old aventures that fell while; And some of _bourdes_[33] and ribaudy; And many there beth of fairy; Of all thinges that men seth, Most of love, forsooth, there beth. In Bretayne, by old time, These lays were made, so sayeth this rhyme, &c.

The Bretons never failed converting into lays all the anecdotes they thought worth consigning to memory; and the following was thus composed, and called Lay le Fraine (frêne), or "The Aventure of the Ash."

In the "West countrie" lived two knights, men of opulence, friends from their infancy, and married about the same time. One of the ladies having twins, her husband sent to announce the event to his friend.

The messenger goth, and hath nought forgete, And findeth the knight at his mete; And fair he gret, in the hall, The lord, the levedi, the meynè all; And sith then, on knees down him set, And the lord full fair he gret. "He bade that thou should to him _te_,[34] And, for love, his _gossibbe_[35] be." "Is his levedi deliver'd _with sounde?_"[36] "Ya, sir, y-thonked be God, _yestronde._"[37] "And whether a maiden child, other a knave?" "Tway sones, sir, God hem save!" The knight thereof was glad and blithe, And thonked Godes sonde swithe, And granted his errand in all thing, And gaf him a palfray for his tiding. Then was the lady of the house A proud dame, and malicious, _Hoker-full, iche mis-segging_,[38] Squeamous, and eke scorning; To iche woman she had envie; She spake these words of felonie: "Ich have wonder, thou messenger, Who was thy lordes conseillor, To teach him about to send, And tell shame _in iche an end!_"[39] "That his wife hath tway children y-bore! Well may iche man wite therfore That tway men her han hodde in bower: That is hir bothe dishonour!"

The messenger was sorely abashed by these unexpected and unjust reflections; the husband reprimanded his wife very severely for the intemperance of her tongue; and all the women of the country, amongst whom the story rapidly circulated, united in prayer, that her calumny might receive some signal punishment. Accordingly, the lady shortly after brought into the world two daughters. She was now reduced to the alternative of avowing herself guilty of a calumny against her innocent neighbour, or of imputing to herself, in common with the other, a crime of which she had not been guilty; unless she could contrive to remove one of the twins. The project of destroying her own child, was, at first, rejected with horror; but after revolving the subject in her mind, and canvassing with great logical acuteness the objections to this atrocious measure, she determined to adopt it, because she could ultimately cleanse herself from the sin, by doing private penance, and obtaining absolution.

Having thus removed her scruples, she called the midwife, and directed her to destroy one of the infants, and to declare that one only had been born. But she refused; and the unnatural mother was reduced to seek for a more submissive and supple agent. She had a maid-servant, educated in the family, to whom she imparted her difficulties; and this confidential counsellor at once proposed a contrivance for removing them: "Give me the child," said she, "and be assured that, without destroying, I will so remove it, that it shall never give you any further trouble. There are many religious houses in the neighbourhood, whose inhabitants cannot be better employed than in nursing and educating orphan children. I will take care your infant shall be discovered by some of these good people, under whose care, by the blessing of Providence, it will thrive and prosper; and in the mean time I will take such means that its health shall not suffer. Dismiss your sorrow, therefore, and trust in my discretion." The lady was overjoyed, and accepted the offer with assurances of eternal gratitude.

As it was her wish that those who should find the child might know it was born of noble parents,

She took a rich _baudekine_,[40] That her lord brought from _Constantine_,[41] And lopped the little maiden therein; And took a ring of fine gold, And on her arm it knit, With a lace of silk in _plit._[42]