But to return from this digression to the current history of English literature. It may be unnecessary for us to notice any other authors than those we have named, until the time of Chaucer, from whom English poetry generally has taken the date of its birth; but if time permitted, we could show that there was taste, and genius, and poetry, before the time of this bard. Still, however, he is justly entitled to the appellation of the "Father of English poetry," from the fact, that he effected a revolution in poetry similar to that effected by Shakspeare in the drama, or Scott in the novel. Before Chaucer, poetry was only descriptive, and narrative, without distinct character. The poets of his day seemed to have no objects in their narrative poems, except to tell a wonderful story: The persons concerned in their incidents were regarded as mere machines, only proper to give these incidents a sort of connexion. These poets presented us not with men and women, but with adventures that might, or might not have happened to men and women; and if they even gave us a glimpse of the characters introduced into their story, it was only by accident, and even then, only the most prominent features could be discovered.

"Chaucer reformed this altogether. He devoted his principal attention to the delineation of his characters; he made the incidents of his story all tend to the illustration of the actors in it. He did not merely sketch one or two of the most prominent features. He drew a full-length, and laid on the appropriate colors. He made every thing distinct, even to the most delicate shadowing. As his characters glide before us, we forget it is an illusion; we exclaim, 'They live-they move-they breathe-they are our fellow-creatures,

and as such awaken our sympathies to a degree that imparts to the story a far more intense interest than it could derive from the most romantic incidents.

None of Chaucer's characters can be confounded with one another; numerous as they are, each has its dramatic features; no action is ascribed to one which might as well be expected of another. In this respect Chaucer is a dramatic poet, and one of the highest order; indeed a distinguished critic has drawn an ingenious parallel between a regular comedy and the series of the Canterbury tales.'

Lord Byron, in his journal, intimates that we reverence Chaucer not for his poetry, but for his antiquity, and passes a criticism upon him as dull, and vulgar, and obscene; but this was before the noble poet wrote Don Juan, or probably when he had read only some of Chaucer's first pieces. If he had ever read him thoroughly, in his maturer years, he probably would have recalled his opinion; most certainly if he were too proud to have done this, he would have reversed his judgment; at least, he would not have called him dull, whatever else he might have said of the “ Father of English poetry." We wish not to be misunderstood as defending Chaucer in all his freedoms; but these freedoms were the errors of the age in which he lived. Indecency in that day was often taken for wit; and at the present time is often substituted for it. We can have but little to say on that score, against our ancestors, when we tolerate the poems of Little, and the freedoms in some of Byron's later works. Moore has atoned in some degree for his songs, by his sacred melodies; but who can forgive him for exhibiting Byron in perpetual moral deformity, rioting in the polluted

saloons of Venetian fascination and depravity. Chaucer is not without other faults common to his age. The authors of his period were apt to encumber their stories with minute descriptions, which, however just or beautiful, became tedious, by having nothing to do with the subject. The writers seem not to have been aware that misplaced beauties lose their charms.

In closing our remarks upon this poet-and we have been somewhat minute, as he stands confessedly at the head of the catalogue of English poets-we must say, that for his comic and satirical vein, he was superior to all his predecessors and his contemporaries. He knew the delicate from the coarse, and could easily distinguish between keen and vigorous satire, and vulgar abuse; between the club, the tomahawk, and the flaying-knife of the savage--and the shafts of "the lord of the unerring bow."

Many works have been charged to Chaucer which he never wrote, and therefore he should not be answerable for them. The great talents of Dryden and Pope, in their versions of Chaucer, have, it must be confessed, given him some new charms; but at the same time, we must say, that in getting rid of some of his peculiarities, they have obscured many of his great beauties. To be relished, the works of Chaucer should be read in the original, and with the accent intended by the author. That such poets as Dryden and Pope should have thought this early poet, of a rude age, worthy imitation, is saying how much they venerated his me mory as a poet.

Chaucer was a politician, as well as a poet. He was sent an ambassador to the Doge of Venice, in 1370. He was for many years in favor with Edward III,

but lost his good will, and was imprisoned by him; but on the accession of Henry, was restored to favor, and died in 1410, eighty-two years of age.

John Gower was senior and contemporary to Chaucer. He wrote some works before Chaucer. He was a favorite with Edward II. He wrote much, and was considered the first moral poet of his age. He disciplined the minds of his countrymen, for he was a philosopher, as well as a poet. His English is more correct than Chaucer's. He was a better grammarian than Chaucer. His tales had matter in them, for Turner says that modern bards have founded many of their tales on his. To be truly original, is not the lot of any man. Who is there that can say, this sentence, or this thought, or this production, is all my own? No one. Art, and science, and letters, are progressive; none but a well stored mind can produce any thing worth remembering, and every well stored mind is pregnant with the best thoughts of his predecessors. Genius does not consist so much in originating thoughts, as in giving new force to those already known.

Gower has a most splendid monument in St. Savior's Church, at Southwark. See description of it in the English Mirror of Literature, Vol. 13, p. 225.

John the Chaplain, as he was called, did much in giving form and beauty to the English language. He lived in the reign of Henry IV.

Thomas Occleve soon followed Chaucer, and acknowledged him as his father in poetry. He too, was a grammarian, and a philosopher, and was patronized by Henry IV, and by his son, the famous Hal-Henry V. He was a poet, and a good moralist. These men did much towards fixing the English language, but his

patron, the fifth Harry, was too much engaged in wars, and had too short a reign to become distinguished as a patron of letters. His own poet did not give him his true glory. It was reserved for an after age to do him justice. Some sketches of his times were worked up by Shakspeare, which have brought down to us this wild, elegant, and gifted Prince, in a blaze of light. His greatness was developed after he had sown the wild oats of his youth. Occleve was a business man, and his labors as a secretary were of great service to the government. It is pleasant to mark the utility of the labors of these men of minstrelsy of early days. Society may be compared to an inverted pyramid, supported, not by the laws of gravitation, but by the hand of Deity, of which every human being forms one stone of the great mass, and on this great mass he may write his character; and leave it, if he have time, ability, and opportunity, for posterity. If Occleve was cold, he was sensible, and such men are often destined to live longer than many of more fire. He was probably too much of a business man to think of immortality as a poet.

Lydgate, his contemporary, was of a more sensitive cast. He even complained of critics, and his is the first mention of that race of men, so common in our day, as existing in England. The ancients had known them. The very existence of criticism is a proof that some mental light exists, for we cannot declare that to be confused, irregular, and tasteless, without light enough to see it. There was no very enlightened criticism, however, in England, until a much later period of her history than the time of Lydgate.

The English nation followed in part the practice of Italy of giving the laurel crown to the best poet of the