cens, and who illustrated it with such rules as the most studious in that science cannot explain. He lodged with a philosopher of that sect' *" On tales such as these, circulated so early as 1100, and on the romantic collections of Simon Seth, Turpin, Geoffery of Monmouth, and William of Malmesbury, all of whose productions were deeply tinged with eastern incidents and fancy, were constructed a multitude of stories in verse, * See Warton's Dissertations on the Gesta Romanorum. History of English Poetry, vol. iii. p. 43, &c.-It is astonishing to what a number of modern poets and fabulators this ancient collection of tales has afforded materials. The beautiful story of the Hermit in Parnell is here very copiously detailed, and, as Mr. Hole asserts, from a Persian romance; and in the fifty-sixth chapter may be found the following remarkable narrative, which has been imitated by Caxton, by Giovanni Rucellai, by Boccaccio, Lydgate, Shakspeare, Davenant, Dryden, Strolberg, and Sayers. "A nobleman invited a merchant to his castle, whom he met accordingly upon the road. At entering the castle, the merchant was astonished at the magnificence of the chambers, which were overlaid with gold. At supper, the nobleman placed the merchant next to his wife, who immediately shewed evident tokens of being much struck with her beauty. The table was covered with the richest dainties; but while all were served in golden dishes, a pittance of meat was placed before the lady in a dish made out of a human skull. The merchant was surprised and terrified at this strange spectacle. At length he was conducted to bed in a fair chamber; where, when left alone, he observed a glimmering lamp in a nook or corner or metrical fabliaux, the compositions for the most part of the northern French bards or Trouveurs of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. These, though rude in their language and versification, frequently display much skill in the distribution and conduct of their fable, and exhibit a very intimate acquaintance with the marvellous and luxuriant fictions of Persia and Arabia. In the old metrical romance of Lybeaus Desconus, of which an analysis has been given by Dr. Percy, in his Reliques of ancient English Poetry, the most essential rules of the epopeia are ob of the room, by which he discovered two dead bodies hung up by the arms. He was now filled with the most terrible apprehensions, and could not sleep all the night. When he rose in the morning, he was asked by the nobleman how he liked his entertainment. He answered, “There is plenty of every thing; but the skull prevented me from eating at supper, and the two dead bodies which I saw in my chamber from sleeping. With your leave, therefore, I will depart. The nobleman answered, My friend, you observed the beauty of my wife. The scull which you saw placed before her at supper, was the head of a duke, whom I detected in her embraces, and which I cut off with my own sword. As a memorial of her crime, and to teach her modest behaviour, her adulterer's skull is made to serve for her dish. The bodies of the two young men hanging in the chamber are my two kinsmen, who were murdered by the son of the duke. To keep up my sense of revenge for their blood, I visit their dead bodies every day. Go in peace, and remember to judge nothing without knowing the truth'." served, and the story is at the same time both interesting, and rich in oriental fabling. One of the most striking parts of it bears a resemblance to the adventure of the clerk in the subterranean palace at Rome, just quoted from the Gesta, particularly in the circumstances of no one speaking; Sir Lybeaus enters a palace built by necromantic art, where, with the exception of minstrels who are playing, he can discover no human creature; and the moment he sits down at the high table, the lights are all quenched, the minstrels vanish, and, accompanied by loud claps of thunder and the blaze of lightning, the enchanted fabric falls to pieces. As the passage is a remarkable specimen of the strong painting with which these ancient legends occasionally abound, I shall present it to the reader in the copy as published by Mr. Ritson. Sir Lybeau's knyght certeys' Rod ynto the palys, And at the halle alyghte; Trompes, schalmuses, 2 He seygh befor the hyegh deys 3 Stonde yn hys syghte. Amydde the halle flore A fere stark and store 4 Was lyght and brende bright, s 1 Courteous. 3 He saw before the high table. 2 Trumpets and shalms. 4 A fire large and strong. Nere the dore he yede," And ladde yn hys stede, That wont was helpe hym yn fyght. To se ech a place, The hales yn the halle, 7 Ne sawe he body ne face But menstrales yclodeth yn palle. Well mery they maden alle; Was never wythinne walle. Before ech menstrale stod Brennynge fayre and bryght; Inner more he yode, " To wyte wyth egre mode 12 Ho scholde wyth hym fighte. That selcouth wer of syghte, 13 No rychere be ne myghte. The thores 14 wer of bras, 6 He yede, he went. 8 Of servants more nor less. 10 With dulcimer and psaltery. 7 The corners in the hall. 9 Rote, a hurdy-gurdy. He went farther in. should with him fight, 14 Thores, doors. Florysseth wyth imagerye, The halle ypaynted was, That he hadde seye wyth eye. That wer so good and trye, The menstrales wer aweye. 17 Dores and wyndowes alle Beten yn the halle, As hyt wer voys of thunder; The stones of the walle Over hym gon falle, That thought hym mych wonder. That deys began to schake, A very leading feature in oriental fiction is the discovery of an enchanted palace or city, in which, by the power of necromancy, either no individual appears, or perfect silence, and a fixed posture are rigidly observed by the charm-bound inhabitants. This species of eastern magic has been frequently copied in the early metrical fabliaux of Europe; and the passage just given from 15 At that table. 16 Were silent. 17 Vanished away. * Ancient English Metrical Romances, vol. ii. p. 75. |