If I may gone upon hir honde,
Then if I wynne a kinges londe.
For whan I maie hir honde beclip
With suche gladnes I daunce and skip,
Methinketh I touche not the floore.
The ro whiche renneth on the moore
Is than nought so light as I.
He continues interestingly--
So mowe ye witten all for thy,
That for the tyme, slepe I hate:
And whan it falleth other gate
So that hir liketh not to daunce,
But on the dyes to cast a chaunce,
Or aske of love some demaunde,
Or els that hir list commaunde
To rede and here of Troilus; 10
Right as she wolde so, or thus
I am all redie to consent.
And if so is that I maie hent
Somtyme amonge a good leyser;
So as I dare, of my desire
I telle a part: But whan I praie,
Anone she biddeth me go my weye;
And seitheIt is ferre in the night'-
And I swere It is even light.'
But as it falleth at laste

There may no worldes joye last―
How piteousliche on hir I looke
Whan that I shall my leve take

Hir ought of mercy for to slake."

His description of parting with his mistress is natural, and described with true poetry :

And than I bidde God hir see'
And so down knelende on my knee
I take leve; and if I shall,
I kisse hir and go forth withall.
And other while, if that I dore,
Ere I come fully at the dore

may

be Chaucer's. 41 Gower's Confess, book 4. p. 116.

CHAP

IV.

POEMS OF

JOHN
GOWER.

BOOK
VIII.

HISTORYOF
ENGLISH
POETRY.

I tourne ayene and feigne a thynge,
As tho I had lost a rynge,
Or somewhat els, for I wolde
Kisse her eftsoone if I shulde.
But selden is that I so spede.
And whan I see that I mote nede
Depart-I depart—and than

With all my herte I curse and banne,

That ever slepe was made for eye."

Gower delights to indulge in these effusions. On another occasion, he says

In every place, in every stede,
What so my lady hath me bede,
With all myn herte obedient,
I have thereto been diligent.
And if so is that she bid nought,
What thyng that than into my thought
Cometh first-if that I maie suffice
I bowe and proffer my service,
Sometyme in chamber, somtyme in hall,
Right so as I see the tymes fall.
And whan she goth to here masse—
In aunter if I maie hir lede
Unto the chapell and againe,
Than is not all my wey in vayne.
Somdele I maie the better fare,
Whan I, that maie not fele hir bare,
May lede hir clothed in myn arme.
But afterwarde it doth me harme,
Of pure imaginacion.

For than this collacion,

I make unto my selven ofte;

And say- O Lorde how she is softe;

How she is rounde; how she is small;
Now wold God I had hir all.' 43

Nothing can more vividly display the feelings of love in all its romantic gallantry, than these lines:What thynge she byt me don, I do.

And where she byt me gon, I go.

42 Gower's Confess. book 4. p. 116.

43 Ib. p. 103.

And whan hir list to clepe, I come—
I serve, I bowe, I loke, I lowte,
Myn eie foloweth hir aboute;
What so she woll, so woll I;
When she woll sit, I knele by:

And whan she stont, than woll I stonde:

And whan she taketh hir werke on honde,

Of wevying or of embroudrie,

Than can I not but muse and prie

Upon hir fingers longe and smale.**

His pictures breathe all the features of real life:

And if it fall as for a tyme,

Hir liketh nought abide by me,
But busien hir on other thynges;
Than make I other tarienges
To drive forth the longe daie.
For me is loth departe awaie.
And than I am so symple of porte,
That for to feigne some disporte

I play with hir littell hounde,

Nowe on the bed, now on the grounde.
Nowe with the birdes in the cage.
For there is none so litell page
Ne yet so symple a chamberere
That I ne make hem all chere.45

CHAP.
IV..

POEMS OF

JOHN
GOWER.

BOOK

VIII.

There are many pleasing passages of this sort, which compel us to say that no English poet seems HISTORYOF SO truly to have felt, and so forcibly to have described, the passion of love in its true sentiment and chivalry, as our neglected Gower.

ENGLISH

POETRY.

Sometimes he has a little touch of the Donne and Cowley witticisms. Thus, Genius having told the story of Medusa, asks him if he has ever misused his eyes? He answers

Myn hert is growen into stone,
So that my lady thereupon

Hathe suche a printe of love grave

That I can noght my selfe save.17

But these false fancies are rare. His stories are usually told in a plain and even style, but with much nature and unaffected feeling. He has not indeed the polished selection of thought which we now require; he does not usually in his descriptions seize upon the incident or the little features, which so often in Chaucer convey the narration to the heart; but he always gives the natural tho unadorned flow of a mind highly cultivated for his day, and sometimes he is interesting. Thus, in the shocking story of the princess Canace, who was led by unguarded familiarities into a great crime, and was delivered of a child. Her companion in the guilt fled, and her enraged father vowed to punish her vindictively:

Betwene the wave of wode and wroth,
Into his daughters chambre he gothe,
And sie the childe that late was bore;
Whereof he hath his othe swore,
That she it shall full sore abie.
And she beganne mercy to crie
Upon hir bare knees, and praide,
And to hir father thus she saide-

47 Gower's Confess. book 4. p. 21.

'Have mercy! Father!-Thynke I am
Thy childe-and of thy bloud I cam.
That I misdeed, youth it made;
And in the flouddes bad me wade,
Where that I saw no perill tho.

But nowe it is befall so,

Mercy-my father! do no wreche!'

And with that worde she loste speche;
And fell downe swouned at his fote.48

Her father will not forgive her,

sword to destroy herself with it.

and sends her a

She promises to

obey him; and sits down to write her last letter to her seducer, whom she still loves :

O thou my sorrow and my gladness!

O thou my hele and my sickness!
O thou my weale; O thou my wo!
O thou my frende! O thou my fo!
O thou my love! O thou my hate!
For thee mote I be dead algate
Thilke ende maie I not asterte;
And yet with all 'myn holle herte,
While that there lasteth me any breath
I woll thee love unto my death.
But of one thynge I shall the preie-
If that my litell sonne deie,

Let him be buried in my grave

Beside me

In my right honde my penne I holde,

And in my lefte my swerde kepe;

And in my barme ther lieth to wepe
Thy chylde and myn, which sobbeth fast.
Nowe am I come unto my last.
Farewell-for I shall soone die—

And thinke how I thy love abie."

Many touches of nature occur in his tales. Thus in his Constance: In consequence of a false accusation and forged orders, she was put into a ship with

CHAP.

IV.

POEMS OF
JOHN
GOWER.