Variety's tlie ery spico of life,
That jfivc it nit its flavor.
THE I'OETHY OF Till'. THOUJ5ADO UUS.
rilOM THE T.V MONTHLY MAUAZ1NE,
Cliv:iljie,
Trouth and honour, frcduai and curttsi-;.
Chavccr.
There are certain ages, in the histo
ry of the world, on which the heart
dwells with strong interest and affec
tion : hut there are none which excite
our curiosity, our admiration, and our
love, more intensely than the days of
chivalry. At that period, the world
was enchanted, and history was a ro
mance. The heart of man was bolder,
and his arm firmer, than in these days
of dull reality, while the spirit of ad
venturous knighthood was softened
with heroic gentleness, and gallant
love. The beauty of woman then was
a boast and a treasure, and the il mor
tal mixture of earth's mould" was wor
shipped as a starry divinity. But ki the
last crowning rose of all the wreath"
was the universal spirit of poetical
feeling, which was awakened in the
heart of the nations, and which, in its
mighty consequences, tended most
powerfully to refine away the ignor
ance and barbarity, which had been the
accumulation of centuries. The foun
tains of purer and gentler feelings were
opened, and the impetuosity of their
first gushing carried away the corrup
tions, which had confined them in their
source. The effect of this spirit, on
the happiness and manners of after
times, was prodigious. It spre id re
finement and civilization through the
world, and, by awakening the soul to a
sense of its own powers, it gave the
first impulse to that progress of the
intellect, which ensures, in its mighty
advances, the liberty and welfare of
man.
But while such beneficial effects have
resulted from this early dawn, and out
break of mental power, it was neces
sarily accompanied by many counter
balancing circumstances. The human
mind had suffered a great convulsion,
and the disordered elements, in as
suming a nobler and purer shape, were
occasionally mingled together most
heterogeneously. All the passions ol
the heart worked freely and unchastis
ed. In devotion, in love, in arms, and
in song, the same vehement feelings
of excess displayed themselves. liven
the moral boundaries, which later and
wiser times have prescribed for them
selves, were unseen and disregarded,
and this not from any willing proneness
to vice, but from an ignorance of the
obligations and excellence of virtue.
The laxity of morals not of moral
feeling, if such a distinction can be
made which distinguished that age,
laid the foundation of that blamable
levity of feeling, which is said to be
inherent in the female character in
France, and which still continues to
exist, though the moral sense of the
world has been so materially changed.
In the age of chivalry, no disgrace was
attached even to the public avowal of
female infidelity, and that callous de
pravity of heart, which is invariably
consequent on the loss of the esteem
and respect of our fellow-creatures,
then seldom ensued. In the present
i i ii . . . : .. 1
. , V , .,. 1 " r .
2UCJ H lilt J 1 C .1 I il II yy kj 1 nvilll'
ment, which distinguishes the poetical
works of the Provencal writers, with
out entering into any disquisition re
specting their history or language,
which our limits will not allow us to
do.
The crowning ornament of the Gay
Science was the love-poems, in which
,it abounded, and which display the
most extraordinary style of sentiment
and expression. It would seem that
the influence of woman, which, in the
ages of classical refinement, had been
slighted and disowned, was destined
to he acknowledged in its most despot
ic shape, in the d ys of chivalrous en
thusiasm. The sentiment was new in
the world, and it was therefore exces
sive and unbounded. It did not bear
the shape of love, affection, esteem, or
reverence but of passion, worship,
and idolatry. The flood-gates of the
heart were opened. In the poetry of
the Troubadours, the passions seem to
have been reduced to their elements,
and to have been mingled together
again in strange ai.-d marvellous union.
Love, however, reigned, eminent and
supreme over all, while the strongest
emotions and passions of the mind
were compelled into his despotic ser
vice. Ambition became hir, slave
for a smile was a guerdon, tor. which
poets and princes contended, and the
favor of a woman could bestow more
honor, than the hand of a monarch
could confer ; nay, even Religion was
made subservient to the power of
Love, and the awful feelings of vener
ation, which are excited by contempla
ting the sanctity of Heaven, were lav
ished freely on an earthly idol. The
sentiments of religious fear or hope,
the strongest, perhaps, which can fill
the human heart, were mingled with
the passion of mortal love, and the
terms which are only applicable to the
majesty of Heaven, were bestowed,
without hesitation, on a capricious
mistress, apparently without the slight
est expectation of scandalizing; the
pious, or insulting the devout. From
the works of the Troubadours innu
merable instances might be pointed out
ol this perversion of sentiment. Bat,
while this extravagance of allusion
and comparison may be justly censur
ed as most improper and absurd, yet,
some of the compositions of this kind,
where the expression of elevated and
devoiional feeling is mingled with the
purity of earthly passion, their love
poetry acquires a deep -,nd chastened
tenderness, which the lighter produc
tions of more modern days fail to dis
play. M. Raynouard regards this as
one of the distinctive characteristics of
the Provergal writer?, which those of
no other nation, according to him, pos
sess. This idea, however, is not cor
rect ; for, in tne poetry of Scotland, we
find the same delicate mingling of the
tenderness of love, and of religious
enthusiasm, which exists in some of
the Troubadours. The songs and
love-poems of Burns contain numer
ous instances of this. " Like all men
of genius," says Dr. Currie, "he wss
of the temperament cf devotion and
the powers of memory co-operated,
in this instance, with the sensibility of
his heart, and the fervour of his imag
ination," In the collection of Niths
dale and Galloway Songs, eJited by
the late lr. Cromek, there arc some
verses, to which a more modern ori
gin lias been since assigned, which are
strongly characteristic or ins stvie ot
writing,
o
The sonjr is eminently ten-
der and beautiful. The two first lines
are sufficient to give an idea of the
style :
I swear by my God, my Jcanic,
Jy that pretty white hand of thine.
And in another song, which has lately
been published by the author, to whom
the above is attributed, we have the
same admixture of ideas. The sim
plicity of the image is complete :
"In preaching time, so meek she itands,
So faintly and so bonnie O,
I cannot get one glimpse of grace,
.r thieving looks at Nannie O."
And again
"I guess what Heaven is by her eyes,
They sparkle so divinely O."
From the remain if the Trouba-
dours, M. Ravnouard has selected ma- :B" punucrous masses, ana la
nv passages in illustration of this sub-. t!Sl'lnS as even Ylth their beauties,
ject, few of which we have endeavor- . fj,e I,oetr.v ,of sentiment, without
ed to imitate, nrescrv nP. r.s near v as
I Cj ' J
merely detached passages from various
poems, and that consequently they are
ih- expression of a single sentiment.
The following stanzas are from Gml-
ilaume cle Cabestainjr
Thy perfect form of nohlencss and grace,
Thy smile, (the language of thy guileless
heart,)
The fairness of thy Ilcavcn-illumincd face,
The sweetnesses of which thou mistress
art
possible, the tone and force of the sen - . cai1 attention
timcnt, though we have in vain attempt-,1?111 -flagging- It is to be enjoyed
edto transfuse a portion of the simple , nen IV,ncl ls1,n a mood ,nnd
beauty of the original. It must be hci onl b stcal aml morsels.' It
r.mpm'rf-fl thnf fhecn nr.. hi frenernl 1S a hard tUSlC l digest three hours
w . t
Ml, all are present to mv every thought ; ! w . ull"lu
Oh ! iir.d to God the'se earthly vows been misused theiru 1 hey cannot, howev
given, er, deny, that in many of these poems
With all their purity and r.rdour nupht, we finj the lcnccrness antl tlie purhy
51y soul had never then despair d ot Heaven. r , ..... . ... 1
. , . ot love inimitably described. The
I here is, pernaps, no circumstance ri, r r
.. l. ' , r following very imperfect version of
well calculated to awaken tne lull- f.i it -r i t- t
so
r i r i- l i i
ness ot poetical leelmcr, as the death
nt Ihnrn t-r ivtmm tllf -.Pilff h fl C hfcll
long and fondly attached. Not, in
deed, in the first flow and bitterness of
irrepressible grief, but when time and
the memory of former happiness have
mellowed anguish into tender regret.
It was under the influence of feelings
like these (feigned, or existing in their
41 sad reality," who shall say ?) that
Lord Bvron must have written his
lines on Thyrza, and that Burns com
posed that beautiful lament, " INIy
Mary ! dear departed shade !" The
same sentiment is contained in the fol
lowing lines :
In every deed of kindness rnd of love,
In cery word so gentle, pure, and wise,
I need not pray that Clod her life approve,
And call her spirit home to Paradise.
And if I slh, and if a silent tear
Hushes for her, and trembles in my eye,
(Passion's last token,) 'tis not that I'fear
For her pure soul's divine felicity.
No ! GoJ, amid his glory, hath enshrined
Her blest perfecthns. Heaven itself could
No jevs, if 'mid its bowers I might not find
Her spirit. No! 1 weep because I live.
In the following verses, the influ
ence of love overpowers the piety of
the votary, and passion is made to
mingle with prayer, tenderly, but not
profanely ; they are imitated from Pons
de C :pducii :
Yes ! thou art fairest, frankest, gayest, best
Adding- to beauty Virtue's sanctity ;
And, owning thy perfections to be blest,
I do but ask the power of loving thee.
So ar lent and .co tender is that love,
cri vo
ho deep thine image on my soul is wroupfm,
T.vit, when 1 pour my humble prayer above,
Thou still art mingled with each holy thought.
At other times, again, we find lighter
allusions to sacred things ; as in the
following lines, from a poem of Ram
baud d'Orange :
I should be grateful, that in dreams
Sweet thoughts will come, my heart beguil-
For then her bright eye on me beams,
Her wreathed lip on me is smiling.
No ! Heaven hath not a look more sweet ;
And, when her eyes on mc are bending,
I would not turn from them, to meet
The glance of angels, sky-dcccnding.
Even amongst the instances which
have been selected by M. Raynouard
as the most unexceptionable, we find
some which overstep the boundary of
devotional propriety, and which, to
modern apprehension at least, can
scarcelv be sheltered under the milder
title", which he has bestowed upon
them, of 44 a literary aberration, occa
sioned by chivalric ideas and the spir
it of the time, in which we rejoice to
discover the imprint of nature, and
the absence of all restraint." The fol
lowing sentence from Huguesde Bach-
eierie
is jriven in one of the extracts
t4 I never recite my Patei-noster when
I arrive at the qui cs in ccclo without
addressing my soul and heart to thee.
Many of the love-poems of the Pro
vencals, however, are entirely free
from this incongruity of imagery, and
display an unmixed purity and tender
ness of sentiment. It has, indeed,
more than once been objected to these
compositions, that there is a sameness
and repetition about them, which ren
der them insipid and valueless. The
objection must apply to all poetry of
sentiment. The truth of passion and
feeling is changeless. Until we re
model the heart, the expression of its
true affection will have but little varie
ty. This objection has been well com
bated by a modern critic. "The re
proach of uniformity," says he, 44 strikes
me as being a very singular one ; it is
as if we should condemn the spring, or
a garden, for the multitude of its flow
ers ;" and he then remarks, that we
arc more sensible of this defect, if it
be one, from the circumstance of our
being acquainted with these poems in
the shape in which they exist in the
libraries of the learned, gathered to-
1 i r
"" cmivcn, ui xanci) to bur
reading of Petrarch's Sonnets, and yet
there are times when we would not
give one of them for a whole epic. It
is in these moods that the love-pieces
of the Troubadours should be read.
The scholar, the antiquary, or the his
torian, who sits down to their perusal
as a portion of his daily task, will prob
ably despise what his heart fails to com-
j prebend, and he will pass his maledic-
u uic mubi uruuiuui poems, wnicii,
! , . i- c T - V
1 7
was ever
Sung by a fair queen in a summer bower,
"With ravishing1 division to her lute,"
may, perhaps, give some slight and re
mote idea of the tenderness and plain
tive simplicity, which breathes through
the original. It is the complaint of
the Countess de Die, who loved and
was beloved by Kambaud, Prince of
Orange, a celebrated Troubadour and
a 1 r.ive knight, but who had forfeited
thv jiiiiises of true chivalry by his in
constancy and libertinism.
Alas ! a!a ! my son is sad ;
How should it r.ot be so.
"When he ho used to make me 'Tad
Now leaves me in my woe ?
y ith him, my love, my graciousncss,
My beauty all are vain,
I feel as though some guiltiness
Had mark'd mc with its stain.
One sweet thought still has power oVr me
In this, my heart's great need,
'Tis that I ne'er was false to ihr.r,
Dear friend! in word or deecL
I own that nobler virtues fill
Thy heart ; love only mine :
Yet why are all thy looks so chill
Till they oii others shine ?
O long-lov'd friend ! I marvel much,
Thv heart is so severe,
That it will vield not to the touch
Of love, and sorrow's tear.
27o ! no ! it cannot be that thou
Shouldst seek another love,
Oh ! think upon our early vow,
And thou will faithful prove.
Thy virtue's pride, thy lofty fame,
Assure me thou art true,
Though fairer ones than 1 may claim
Thy hand, and deign to sue.
Put tliinkj belov'd one ! that to bless
With perfect blessing, thou
Must seek for trusting tenderness,
Kcmcmber then our vow !
This little poem has excited M.
Raynouard's warmest admiration, who
declares that the truest and most ex-
quisite sentiment dictated it. It is
impossible, however, as he justly ob
serves, to preserve the grace and deli
cacy of it in a translation ; it is like
those tender flowers, which breathe !
their perfume only when they are un
gathered, but which fade and become
odourless the moment they are separ
ated from their parent stem. He has
instituted a bold comparison between
this elegy and the celebrated love-ode
of Sappho a comparison which, he
says, is well calculated to give us a
correct idea of the distinctive peculiar
ities of classical and chivalric litera-
ture in comnositions of this kind. The
pocmofSappho,whichportraysthe pas-: merit, demonstrates a neart as muca
sion of love so completelv, that accord- j devoted to piety and virtue as any ac
inp; to one of our critics', " it has been j tin which the worthy object of his
i
eldom so wrell described in the course
of two thousand years," in the opin
ion of jI. Raynouard, paints a sensi
bility entirely material, before the pro
gress of civilization had rendered wo
man the ornament of society ; while
the verse of the poetess of chivalry
breathes a sensibility altogether intel
lectual. Tender as impassioned, she
loves for pure love's sake alone.
TO IiC CONCLUDED.
FEMALE EDUCATION.
Extract from a Sermon on Female Education, ; pleasure tlie Jurc of Merest, or the
lately delivered by the Key. Joseph Emerson. , violence of QUr pass'lonSi may be somc?
" Surely the mother is a much more j though a poor apology, for" the corn
important character than is generally mission of crimes ; but to sit coolly by
imagined. To whom are we to look
for improvements? for such improve
ments as the world has never seen ? Is
it to men? to those whose habits are
fixed ; whose characters are consolida
ted .? No. It is to be the rising gener
ation, to children, to babes, tc suck
lings. And who has the principal in
fluence in forming the habits and char
acter of these ? The mother ; she
who is with them, and is scarcely re
moved from them, by night or by day ;
she, uho imparts to them her man
ners, her habits, her language, her
modes of thinking, her opinions, her
prejudices, her virtues, I had almost
said, her very soul itself. Surely the
mother has more influence in forming
the rising generation, than is possess
ed by man, with all his authority, with
all his laws, with all his arms, with all
his splendid literary institutions.
Though the mother is indeed subor
dinate, as it respects the father, it is
infinitely important. Thcugh her sta
tion is subordinate, yet in a great mea
sure, she carries in her heart, and
holds in her hand, the destinies of the
world. It is impossible that mankind
should be improved to any considera
ble degree and extent, without a cor
responding improvement of mothers.
Here and there individuals may arise
and shine, as they have done from the
beginning of time ; but improvements
will be exceedingly limited, unless mo
thers are improved. And even with
regard to the most distinguished indi
viduals, who have enlightened and as
tonished the world, it is probable that
the mother has had a greater influence
upon their characters, than has gener
ally been supposed. Who can tell how
much her efforts may have conduced
to give such a tone and direction to
their minds, as has had an influence
upon their whole succeeding conduct ?
All the future Bacons, Lockes and
Newtons ; all the future Baxters, Ed
wardses and Dwights, that are yet to
arise and enlighten the world, will owe
their influence, in a greater or less de
gree, to the mother. From her lips
they learn to articulate their own names.
j rrom her, they learn to walk, to think,
to pray. She," who is truly an excel
lent mother, is one of the richest boons
of Heaven.
u We are assured by the voice of in
spiration, that a child left to himself,
bringeth his mother to shame. But
why does an ungoverned and froward
child bring shame upon his mother,
more than upon his father? J-5 it not
because the mother has a peculiar in
fluence, and consequently a peculiar
obligation to train her offspring to obe
dience and virtue ?
" If I could for a moment believe
the horrible idea that females have no
immortal souls, that to them death is
an eternal sleep, even at that time, I
would say, L.et the female character
be raised, that she may elevate her
sons ; let it be exalted to the utmost,
that she may exalt humanity."
He that receivcth a prophet, in the name of a
prophet, shall receive a prophet's reward.
31 ATT. X. 41.
By " a prophet" is here to be under
stood a holy, religious, and good man ;
; and the meaning of the whole sentence
is tnis : lie that-receivetn a pro-
phet," that is, he that entertains, as
sists, and patronises a religious and
I good man, " in the name cf a pro
phet, that is, because he is, and has
the name and character of a religious
and good man, 44 shall receive a pro
phet's reward that is, is entitled to,
and shall receive as great a reward as
the religious and good man himself.
That he should receive an equal re
ward is perfectly agreeable to divine
justice, because, entertaining and pat
ronising a pious and virtuous man,
from the sole consideration of his
i .
favour can possibly perform.
If this is true, the converse must bz
true likewise ; that is, that he that en
tertains, protects and patronises an
impious, a profligate man, for the sake
of his vices, is as criminal, and shall
receive as severe a punishment, as the
most abandoned of his favourites: and
with equal justice, because the appro
bation of wickedness in others, hav
ing no temptation for an excuse, is
more atrocious, and demonstrates a
more denraved disnosition. than even
Draclice Qr h. The seduction of
and view with pleasure the iniquities
and profligacy of others, and to en
courage them by our favour, approba
tion, and rewards, indicates a dispo
sition more completely depraved than
the commission of them, but denraved
as it is, we see instances of it every
day ; we see the most impious and pro
fane, the most corrupt and dissolute,
sometimes the idols of the vulgar, and
more frequently the idols of the great ;
we see them, without any introduction
or recommendation, except their vices,
entertained, caressed, and patronised
by the rich and powerful, who look
with envy and admiration on a degree
of profligacy in them, which they
themselves are unable to arrive at.
EX TRACT.
Men spend their lives in anticipa
tion, in determining to be vastly happy
at some future period or other, when
they have time. But the present tirns
has one advantage over any other it
is our own. Past opportunities are
gone, future are not come. We may
lay in a stock of pleasure, as we would
a stock of wine ; but if we defer tast
ing of them too long, we shall find that
they both are soured by age. Let our
happiness, therefore, be a modest
mansion which we enn inhabit while we
have our health and vigor to enjoy it;
not a fabric so vast and expensive, that
it has cost us the best part of our lives
to build, and which we can expect to
occupy only when we have less occa
sion for an habitation than a tomb. It
has been well observed, that we should
treat futurity as an aged friend, from
whom we expect a rich legacy. Let
us do nothing to forfeit his esteem, and
treat him with respect, not with scur
rility. But let us not be too prodigal
when we are young, nor too parsimo
nious when we are old, otherwise vj
shall fall into the common error of
those who, when they had the power
to enjoy, had not the prudence to ac
quire ; and when they had prudence to
acquire, had no longer the power to
enjoy.
By the very constitution of our being,
we are compelled to delight in society :
4 it is not good for man to be alone" : we
are all exactly fitted to contribute to the
good of all ; and it is by each carrying his
respective amount to the general bank of
human happiness, that each is enabled to
draw most largely for his private accommodation.