BOOK I

Whanne Scythyannes, salvage as tbe volves theie chacclc

Peynted in horrowe ' formes bie nature dyghle*,

Heckclcd 3 yn beatskvn*, slcpte uponne tbe vas

And vyth tbe morncynge rouzed t :e volfe to fyghle,

Swefte as descendeynge lentes * of roddi'e Ivghte,

Plonged to tbe hulstred 5 bedde of laveynge G seas,

Gerd " tbe blacke mounmyn. Okes yn drvbblets 8 tvighte 9

And ranne vn thoghte alon/ie the azuré mees,

Whose eyue dyd féerie sheenc, likc blue-hayred 10 defs,

That dreerie hange upon Dover's cmblaunched il clefs.

t. Unsoemly, disagreeablc. — 2. Dreseed — 3. Wrapped — 4. Rays. — 13. Ilidden, sucret. — t». Washing — T. liroke, rem, slruck. — 8. Small pièces. — 9. l'ulled, rent. — 10. Vapours, inttcors , rallier spectres. — 11. \Miile.

i)K CIlATTLftTOiV Î5S

Un mois avant sa mort Chatterton envoya la ballade qui suit à l'éditeur du journal appelé Town and Counlry Magazine. Ce sont les derniers vers qu'il ait écrits, et c'est pour cela que je les ai choisis. Outre une rare perfection de style et de rhyihme, j'y trouve le jeune poète mieux représenté que dans des œuvres plus imposantes ; j'y vois une morale pure et toute fraternelle, enveloppée dans une composition simple, qui rappelle la parabole du Samaritain ; une satire irès-liue, amenée sans effort, et ne dépassant jamais les idées et les expressiuns du siècle où elle semble écrite; et, au fond de tout cela, le sentiment sourd, profond, désolant, inexorable d'une misère sans espérance, et que la Charité même ne saurait consoler.

AN

EXCELEXTE BALADE OF CHARITIE,

AS WROTEN BIE THE GODE PRIESTE

Thomas Rowley, 1464.

In virgyne the swellrie sun gan sheene, And holte upon tlie mees did caste his r:.ic ; The appe rodded ils pâlie greene, And lhe mole peare did bcnde the leafy spraiee; The peede chelandri sung the livelong daie : 'T was nowe the pride, the manhode of the yeare, And eke the grounde was dighte in its mose defte anmere, The sun was glemeing in the midde of daie; Deadde slill lhe aire, and eke the velken blue, When from lhe sea arist in drear arraic A hepe of cloudes of sable stillen hne, The wliicfa full fast unlo the voodlande drewe, Hillring attcnes lhe sunnis fetive face, And lhe hlacke tempeste swolne and gathered up apace.

Beneathe an holme, faste by a pathwaie side, Wbicfa dide unlo seyncte Godwine's covent lede, A happlcss pilgrim moneynge did abide, Pore in is vieve, ungentlein bis weede, Longe breiful of the niiseries of neede. Where from lhe hail-stone conlde the aimer Aie ? He had no honsen theere, ne auie covent nie.

Look in his glommed face, his sprighle there scanne; Howe >voc-he-gone, how withered, forwynd, deade! Haste to lie cluirch-glebc-housc, asshreved manne! Haste lo ihie kiste, thie onlic dortoure bedde. Cale, as the claie whiche will gre on thie heddc, Is Charitic and Love ainingc highe elves; Knighiis and Barrons live for pleasure and themselves.

The gaihcred siorme is rype; the bigge drops falle; The forswat meadowes smelhe, and drenche lhe raine; The comyng ghaslncss do the caille pall,

And the fnll flockes are drivynge ore tlie plaine ; Dashde front ihe clondes ihe waters Boit againe; The welkin opes; ihe yellow levynne Aies; And the bot tierie smothe in tlie wide lowings dies.

Liste! now the thunder's raltling i Lymmynge sound Cheves slovlie on, and tlien enibolhn daugs, Shake tlie hie spyre, and loflt, dispended, drown'd, Still on the gallard eare of terroure hanges; The windes are up ; the loftv elinen svanges ; Again the levynne and the tlmnder poures. And the fulle clondes are braste attenes in slonen showers.

Spnrreyuge bis palfrie oere the walrie plaine, The Ahboie efSeyncte Godwynes convente came; His chaponrnette %vas drented witb the reine, And his p<;ncie gvrdle met witb mickle shame ; He avnevarde tolde his bederoll al ihe sanie ; The storrne encreasen, and he drev aside, With the mist aimes craver neere lo the holme to bide. His eope vas ail of Lyncolnc clothe so fyne, With a gold button fasten 'd neere his chynne; His autremete vas edged with golden twynne, And his shoone pvke a loverds migbte hâve binne; Fnll -well it shewn he thougbten cosle no sinne ; The trammels of the palfrye pleasde his sighte. For the horse-millanare his head with roses dighte. An aimes, sir prieste! the droppynge pilgrim saide, O ! let me waite within your covente dore, Till the sunne sheneth hie above our heade, And the loude tempeste of the aire is oer; Helpless and onld am I, alas ; and poor; Ko house, ne friend, ne moneie in mv pouche; Ail yatte I call my owne is tins my silver crouche.

Varlet, replyd the Abatte, cease your dinne; Tins is no season aimes and prayes to give; Mie porter never lets in faitour in; None touche mie rynge who not in honour live. And now the sonne with the blacke cloudes did stryve, Andsbettvnge on the grounde his glarrie raie, The Abbate spurrde bis steede, and eftsoones roadde avait-.

Once mue the skie vas blacke, the thounder rolde; Faste reyneynge oer the plaine a priest vas seen; Ne dighte full proude, ne bultoned in golde ; His cope and jape vere graie, and eke were clene;

/i38 SLR LES OELVRES

A Limitoure lie wasof order seene;

And from ihe palbwaie side llieu turnedhe,

Wbere ihe pore aimer laie bineibe the holnien tree.

An aimes, sir priesi ! tlie droppvnge pilgrim saitle,

l'or sweele Seyncte Marie and your order sake.

J lie Limitoure theu loosen'dbis potiche threade,

Aud dîd thereoule a groaie of silver take;

The mister pilgrim dyd for halline shake.

Hère iake ihis silver, il maie eathe tliie care;

Wc are Goddes stewards ail, nete of oure owue we bare.

But ab ! uuhaillie pilgrim, lerne of me, Scnthe anie give a reutrolle to their Lorde. Hère take my semecope, tliou arle hare I see; 'This thvne; the Seyncies will give me mie rewarde. He lefl the pilgrim, and his vaie aborde. Yirgynne and hallie Seyncte, wbo sitte yn gloure, Or give the mittee will, or give the goed man power.