An Apology for the Study of Northern Antiquities | Page 9

deed there nis no more to say.#
Again,
#Alas, what is this wonder Maladye? For heate of colde, for colde of heate I dye.#
_Chaucer_'s first Book of Troylus, fol. 159. b.
And since we are a united Nation, and he as great a Poet, considering his time, as this Island hath produced, I will with due Veneration for his Memory, beg leave to cite the learned and noble Prelate, Gawen Douglas, Bishop of Dunkeld in Scotland, who in his Preface to his judicious and accurate Translation of Virgil, p. 4. says,
Nane is, nor was, nor zit sal be, trowe I, Had, has, or sal have, sic craft in Poetry:
Again, p. 5.
Than thou or I, my Freynde, quhen we best wene.
But before, at least contemporary with Chaucer, we find Sir John Gower, not baulking _Monosyllables;
#Myne Herte is well the more glad To write so as he me bad, And eke my Fear is well the lasse. To Henry the Fourth, King Salomon which had at his asking Of God, what thyng him was leuest crave. He chase Wysedom unto governyng Of Goddes Folke, the whiche he wolde save: And as he chase it fyl him for to have. For through his Witte, while that his Reigne laste, He gate him Peace, and Rest, into his laste.#
Again,
#Peace is the chefe of al the Worldes Welth, And to the Heven it ledeth eke the way, Peace is of Soule and Lyfe the Mannes Helth, Of Pestylence, and doth the Warre away, My Liege Lord take hede of that I say. If Warre may be lefte, take Peace on Hande Which may not be without Goddes Sande.# [E]
[Footnote E:_ Besides the Purpose for which these Verses are here cited, it may not be amiss to observe from some Instances of Words contain'd in them, how necessary, at least useful, the Knowledge of the Saxon Tongue is, to the right understanding our Old English Poets, and other Writers. For example, #leuest#, this is the same with the Saxon *leofost*, most beloved, or desirable. #Goddes folke#, not God his Folk, this has plainly the Remains of the Saxon Genitive Case. #Sande#, this is a pure Saxon word, signifying Mission, or being sent. See the Saxon Homily on the Birth Day of St. Gregory, p. 2. *He eurh his r?de & sande us fram eeofles biggengum ?tbr?d.* He through his Counsel and Commission rescued us from the Worship of the Devil.]
Nor were the French, however more polite they may be thought, than we are said to be, more scrupulous in avoiding them, if these Verses are upon his Monument;
#En toy qui es fitz de Dieu le Pere, Sauue soit, qui gist sours cest pierre.#
This will be said to be old French, let us see whether Boileau will help us out, who has not long since writ the Art of Poetry;
Mais moi, grace au Destin, qui n'ai ni feu ne lieu, Je me loge où je puis, & comme il plaist à Dieu.
_Sat._ vi.
And in that which follows,
Et tel, en vous lisant, admire chaque traite, Qui dans le fond de l'ame, & vous craint & vous hait.
Let Lydgate, _Chaucer_'s Scholar also be brought in for a Voucher;
#For Chaucer that my Master was and knew What did belong to writing Verse and Prose, Ne'er stumbled at small faults, nor yet did view With scornful Eye the Works and Books of those That in his time did write, nor yet would taunt At any Man, to fear him or to daunt.#
Tho' the Verse is somewhat antiquated, yet the Example ought not to be despised by our modern Criticks, especially those who have any Respect for Chaucer.
I might give more Instances out of John Harding, and our good old Citizen, Alderman Fabian, besides many others: but out of that Respect to the nice Genij of our Time, which they seldom allow to others, I will hasten to the Times of greater Politeness, and desire that room may be made, and attention given to a Person of no less Wit than Honour, the Earl of Surrey, who at least had all the Elegancy of a gentle Muse, that may deserve the Praises of our Sex,
Her Praise I tune whose Tongue doth tune the Spheres, And gets new Muses in her Hearers Ears. Stars fall to fetch fresh Light from her rich Eyes, Her bright Brow drives the Sun to Clouds beneath.
Again,
O Glass! with too much Joy my Thoughts thou greets.
And again upon the Chamber where his admired Geraldine was born;
O! if Elyzium be above the Ground, Then here it is, where nought but Joy is found.
And Michael Drayton, who had a Talent fit to imitate, and to celebrate so great a Genius, of all our English Poets, seems best to have understood the sweet and harmonious placing of Monosyllables, and has practised it with so