Alas! our wardein has his palfrey lorn.

This Alein al forgat both mele and corn;
Al was out of his mind his husbandrie:
What, whilke way is he gon? he gan to crie.

The wif came leping inward at a renne ;
She fayd, Alas! youre hors goth to the fenne
With wilde mares as faft as he may go.

4075

Unthank come on his hand that bond him fo, 4c80
And he that better fhuld have knit the rein.

Alas! (quod John) Alein, for Criftes pein
Lay doun thy fwerd, and bfhal min alfwa;
I is ful wight, God wate, as is a ra.

By Goddes faule he fhal not fcape us bathe.
Why ne had thou put the capel in the lathe ?
Ill haile, Alein, by God thou is a fonue.
These fely clerkes han ful fast yronne

No mo the amblyng palfrie and the horne
Shall from the leffel rouze the foxe awaie,

4083

See The Town and Country Magazine for May 1769, p. 273. When this note was written I was in hopes of being able to refer the reader to fome more creditable edition of this poem; but the influence of those malignant stars which so long confined poor Rowley in his iron cheft seems still to predominate. Seriously it were much to be wished that the gentleman who is poffeffed of the ftill remaining fragments of this unfortunate author would print them as foon as poffible. If he thould not have leifure or inclination to be the editor himself he might eafily find a proper person to take that trouble for him, as nothing more would be requifite than to print the several pieces faithfully from their respective mff.diftinguishing which of thofe mff. are originals and which transcripts, and also by whom and when the transcripts were made, as far as that can be afcertained.

Toward the fen, bothe Alein and eke John;

And whan the miller faw that they were gon 4c90

He half a bushel of hir flour hath take,

And bad his wif go knede it in a cake.
He fayd, I trow the clerkes were aferde:
Yet can a miller make a clerkes berde.
For all his art. Ye, let hem gon: hir
way.
Lo wher they gon. Ye, let the children play :
They get him not fo lightly by my croun,

'These sely clerkes rennen up and doun

4095

With Kepe, kepe; Stand, stand; joffa, warderere.
Ga whistle thou, and I fhal kepe him here.
But shortly, til that it was veray night

They coude not, though they did all hir might,
Hir capel catch, he ran alway so fast,

4100

4105

Til in a diche they caught him at the last.
Wery and wet, as bestes in the rain,
Cometh fely John, and with him cometh Alein.
Alas (quod John) the day that I was borne!
Now are we driven til hething and til scorne.
Our corn is ftolne, men wol us fonnes calle,
Both the wardein and eke our felawes alle,

4110

.4094. make a clerkes berde] i. e. cheat him. Faire la barbe, Fr. is to have or trim the beard; but Chaucer translates the phrafe literally, at leaft when he ufes it in its metaphorical fenfe. See ver. 5943, and H. of F. ii. 181. Boccace has the fame metaphor, Deeam. viii. 10. Speaking of fome exorbitant cheats, he says that they applied themselves—non a radere ma afcorticare buominį; and a little lower-fi a foavemente la barbiera faputo menare il rappio.

And namely the miller, wala wa!!

Thus plaineth John as he goth by the way Toward the mille, and Bayard in his hond. 'The miller fitting by the fire he fond,

For it was night, and forther might they nought,
But for the love of God they him befought 4116
Of herberwe and of efe, as for hir peny. ·

The miller faide agen, If ther be any,
Swiche as it is yet fhull ye have your part.
Myn hous is ftreit, but ye have lerned art;
Ye can by arguments maken a placet,
A mile brode of twenty foot of space.
Let fee now if this place may fuffice,

4120

Or make it roume with fpeche, as is your gife.
Now, Simond, (faid this John) by Seint Cuthberd
Ay is thou mery, and that is faire anfwerd.
I have herd fay man fal take of twa thinges,
Slike as he findes, or flike as he bringes.

4126

But fpecially I pray thee, hofte dere,

Gar us have mete and drinke, and make us chere,
And we fal paien trewely at the full:

4131

With empty hand men may na haukes tull.

Lo here our filver redy for to spend.

This miller to the toun his daughter fend
For ale and bred, and rosted hem a goos,
And bond hir hors he fhuld no more go loos,
And in his owen chambre hem made a bedde,
With thetes and with chalons faire yspredde,

4135

v. 4133. chalons] Whatever they were they probably were

Nat from his owen bed ten foot or twelve:
His doughter had a bed all by hire felve,
Right in the fame chambre by and by:
It mighte be no bet, and cause why,
Ther was no roumer herberwe in the place.
They foupen, and they speken of folace,
And drinken ever strong ale at the best.
Abouten midnight weate they to rest.

Wel hath this miller vernished his hed,
Ful pale he was, for-dronken, and nought red.
He yoxeth, and he speketh thurgh the nose,
As he were on the quakke or on the pose.
To bed he goth, and with him goth his wif ;
As any jay fhe light was and jolif;

So was hire joly whistle wel ywette,
The cradel at hire beddes feet was fette

4140

4145

4150

To rocken, and to yeve the child to fouke.

4155

And whan that dronken was all in the crouke

To bedde went the doughter right anon,
To bedde goth Alein and also John.
Ther n'as no more; nedeth hem no dwale.
This miller hath so willy bibbed ale,
That as an hors he snortech in his flepe,
Ne of his tail behind he toke no kepe.
His wif bare him a burdon a ful strong,
Men might hir routing heren a furlong.

4160

fo called from their being made at Chalons. The gloffary interprets them to be blankets; but a paffage in the Monaft. v. ii. p. 720, would rather lead one to fuppofe them coverlets "aut pannos pictos, qui vocantur Chaluns, loco lectifternii."

The wenche routeth eke par compagnie.

Alein the clerk, that herd this melodie,
He poketh John, and fayde, Slepest thou?
Herdest thou ever flike a fong er now?
Lo whilke a complin is ymell hem alle;
A wilde fire upon hir bodies falle,

Wha herkned ever flike a ferly thing?

Ye, they shall have the flour of yvel ending.
This lange night ther tides me no reste;

But yet na force, all fhal be for the beste.
For, John, (fayd he) as ever mote I thrive,
If that I may yon wenche wol I swive.
Som efement has lawe yfhapen us;
For, John, ther is a lawe that faieth thus,
That if a man in o point be agreved
That in another fhe fhal be releved.
Our corn is ftolne, fothly it is na nay,
And we han had an yvel fit to-day;
And fin I fhal have nan amendement
Again my loffe I wol have an efement:
By Goddes faule it shal nan other be.

This John answered, Alein, avife thee;
The miller is a perilous man, he fayde,
And if that he out of his flepe abraide,
He mighte don us bathe a vilanie.

Alein answered, I count him nat a flie.
And up he rift, and by the wenche he crept.
This wenche lay upright, and faste flept,

4165

4170

4175

4180

4185

4190