of spring.  To the faithful reader his muse has even given an aspect to his times, and when he is fresh from perusing him, they seem related to the golden age.  It is still the poetry of youth and life, rather than of thought; and though the moral vein is obvious and constant, it has not yet banished the sun and daylight from his verse.  The loftiest strains of the muse are, for the most part, sublimely plaintive, and not a carol as free as nature’s.  The content which the sun shines to celebrate from morning to evening, is unsung.  The muse solaces herself, and is not ravished but consoled.  There is a catastrophe implied, and a tragic element in all our verse, and less of the lark and morning dews, than of the nightingale and evening shades.  But in Homer and Chaucer there is more of the innocence and serenity of youth than in the more modern and moral poets.  The Iliad is not Sabbath but morning reading, and men cling to this old song, because they still have moments of unbaptized and uncommitted life, which give them an appetite for more.  To the innocent there are neither cherubim nor angels.  At rare intervals we rise above the necessity of virtue into an unchangeable morning light, in which we have only to live right on and breathe the ambrosial air.  The Iliad represents no creed nor opinion, and we read it with a rare sense of freedom and irresponsibility, as if we trod on native ground, and were autochthones of the soil.

Chaucer had eminently the habits of a literary man and a scholar.  There were never any times so stirring that there were not to be found some sedentary still.  He was surrounded by the din of arms.  The battles of Hallidon Hill and Neville’s Cross, and the still more memorable battles of Cressy and Poictiers, were fought in his youth; but these did not concern our poet much, Wickliffe and his reform much more.  He regarded himself always as one privileged to sit and converse with books.  He helped to establish the literary class.  His character as one of the fathers of the English language would alone make his works important, even those which have little poetical merit.  He was as simple as Wordsworth in preferring his homely but vigorous Saxon tongue, when it was neglected by the court, and had not yet attained to the dignity of a literature, and rendered a similar service to his country to that which Dante rendered to Italy.  If Greek sufficeth for Greek, and Arabic for Arabian, and Hebrew for Jew, and Latin for Latin, then English shall suffice for him, for any of these will serve to teach truth “right as divers pathes leaden divers folke the right waye to Rome.”  In the Testament of Love he writes, “Let then clerkes enditen in Latin, for they have the propertie of science, and the knowinge in that facultie, and lette Frenchmen in their Frenche also enditen their queinte termes, for it is kyndely to their mouthes, and let us shewe our fantasies in soche wordes as we lerneden of our dames tonge.”