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Ay, now for sure away from me 'tis ta'en;

I may 't no longer hide.

Had I but known (alas, regret is vain!)

That which should me betide,

Before my door on guard I down had lain

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To sleep, my flowers beside.

Yet might the Great God ease me at His will.

Yea, God most High might ease me, at His will,
If but it liked Him well,

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Of him who wrought me such unright and ill;
He into pangs of hell

Cast me, who stole my basil-pot, that still

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Was full of such sweet smell,

Its savour did all dole from me away.

All dole its savour did from me away;
It was so redolent,

When, with the risen sun, at early day

To water it I went,

The folk would marvel all at it and say, "Whence comes this sweetest scent?"

And I for love of it shall surely die.

Yea, I for love of it shall surely die,

For love and grief and pain.

If one would tell me where it is, I'd buy

It willingly again.

Fivescore gold crowns, that in my purse have I,

I'd proffer him full fain,

And eke a kiss, if so it like the swain.

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V.

EXTRACT FROM THE RICHES OF CHAUCER,

BY CHARLES COWDEN CLARKE,

CONCERNING THE COMPOSITION OF THE SONNET ON

THE FLOURE AND THE LEFE.

THE poem of "The Flower and the Leaf" was especially favoured by the young poet, John Keats. The author may perhaps be pardoned for making a short digression upon the present occasion, to record an anecdote in corroboration of the pleasure testified by that vivid intellect upon his first perusal of the composition. It happened at the period when Keats was about publishing his first little volume of poems (in the year 1817); he was then living in the second floor of a house in the Poultry, at the corner of the court leading to the Queen's Arms tavern-that corner nearest to Bow church. The author had called upon him here, and finding his young friend engaged, took possession of a sofa, and commenced reading from his then pocket-companion, Chaucer's "Flower and the Leaf." The fatigue of a long walk, however, prevailed over the fascination of the verses, and he fell asleep. Upon awaking the book was still at his

This further account of the genesis of the sonnet given at pages 217 and 218 of the present volume is from pages 52 and 53 of the Life of Chaucer prefixed to The Riches of Chaucer (2 volumes, 1835).

side; but the reader may conceive the author's delight upon finding the following elegant sonnet written in his book at the close of the poem. During my sleep, Keats had read it for the first time; and, knowing that it would gratify me, had subjoined a testimony to its merit, that might have delighted Chaucer himself.

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VI.

JOHN HAMILTON REYNOLDS'S

"ROBIN HOOD SONNETS,"

from The Garden of Florence &c., 1821.

I.

ROBIN the outlaw! Is there not a mass

Of freedom in the name?—It tells the story
Of clenched oaks, with branches bow'd and hoary,
Leaning in aged beauty o'er the grass;-

Of dazed smile on cheek of border lass

Listening 'gainst some old gate at his strange glory: And of the dappled stag, struck down and gory, Lying with nostril wide in green morass.

It tells a tale of forest days-of times

That would have been most precious unto thee:
Days of undying pastoral liberty :-

Sweeter than music old of abbey chimes

Sweet as the virtue of Shakspearian rhymes—
Days, shadowy with the magic green-wood tree!

2.

The trees in Sherwood forest are old and good,—
The grass beneath them now is dimly green;
Are they deserted all? Is no young mien

As these sonnets are addressed "To -", and Keats's Robin Hood (pages 132-6 of the present volume) was written "in answer

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With loose-slung bugle met within the wood :
No arrow found,-foil'd of its antler'd food,-

Struck in the oak's rude side? Is there nought seen,
To mark the revelries which there have been,-
In the sweet days of merry Robin Hood?

Go there, with Summer, and with evening,-go
In the soft shadows like some wandering man,-
And thou shalt far amid the forest know
The archer men in green, with belt and bow,
Feasting on pheasant, river-fowl, and swan,
With Robin at their head, and Marian.

With coat of Lincoln green

3.

and mantle too,

And horn of ivory mouth, and buckle bright,
And arrows wing'd with peacock-feathers light,
And trusty bow well gather'd of the yew,-
Stands Robin Hood:-and near, with eyes of blue
Shining through dusk hair, like the stars of night,
And habited in pretty forest plight,—

His green-wood beauty sits, young as the dew.

Oh gentle-tressed girl! Maid Marian!

Are thine eyes bent upon the gallant game

That stray in the merry Sherwood: thy sweet fame

Can never, never die. And thou, high man,
Would we might pledge thee with thy silver Can
Of Rhenish, in the woods of Nottingham!

to them, I presume we need not doubt that Keats was the unnamed person for whom the Sonnets were meant. There is a reference, apparently, to the poem and the sonnets in Keats's letter to Reynolds of the 3rd of February 1818 (see Letters).

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