The Lay of Marie and Vignettes in Verse Part 11

[11] Pyramus loco citate.

[12] Oeuvres de Fauchet, p. 579.

[13] Conclusion of Mary's Fables.

[14] Dictionaire Raisonnee de Diplomatique Verbo _Comte_.

[15] Martineus Dict. Geographique, v. Dampierre.

[16] Sandford's Genealogical History of the Kings of England, p. 114.

[17] Ibid, p. 116, and M. Paris, p. 817

[18] Sandford, ibid.

[19] Fabliaux, vol. iv. p.330.

[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. d.u.c.h.esne, Oeuvres de Maistre Alain Chartris, p. 861.

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

[29] a.s.ser, Vita Alfredi, Malsmb.

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

[31] Ordoric. Vitalis Hist. apud d.u.c.h.esne, 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 ma.n.u.script, 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 antic.i.p.ated 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 tw.a.n.ging 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 va.s.sal 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 Ill.u.s.trious Arthur mark'd his opening prime, Then dealt him n.o.ble 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 l.u.s.tre 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 n.o.ble 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 sh.o.r.e; Hoa.r.s.e 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 a.s.says 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 ma.s.sy 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 ma.s.s, 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 G.o.ddess 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; Compa.s.sionate 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 pa.s.s'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 a.s.surance 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.