And fast by him pale Misery was placed,
Sore sick in bed, her colour all forgone,
Bereft of stomach, savour, and of taste;
Nor could she brook no meat but broths alone;
Her breath corrupt, her keepers every one
Abhorring her her sickness past recure,
Detesting physic, and all physic's cure.

But oh! the doleful sight that then we see!
We turned our look, and on the other side
A grisly shape of Famine might we see

With greedy looks, and gaping mouth that cried,
And roared for meat, as she should there have died;

Her body thin, and bare as any bone,

Whereto was left nought but the case alone;

And that, alas! was gnawn on every where
All full of holes, that I ne mought refrain

From tears, to see how she her arms could tear,

And with her teeth gnash on the bones in vain : When all for nought she fain would so sustain Her starved corps, that rather seemed a shade, Than any substance of a creature made.

Great was her force, that stone walls could not stay,
Her tearing nails scratching at all she saw;
With gaping jaws that by no means y-may
Be satisfied with hunger of her maw,
But eats herself as she that hath no law;
Gnawing, alas! her carcass all in vain,

Where you may count each sinew, bone, and vein.

On her while we thus firmly fix our eyes,

That bled for ruth of such a dreary sight,
Loe suddenly she shrieked in so huge wise,
As made hell gates to shiver with the might;
Wherewith a dart, we saw how it did light
Right on her breast, and therewithall pale Death
Enthrilling it to reave her of her breath.

And bye and bye, a dumb dead corpse we saw,
Heavy and cold, the shape of death aright,
That daunts all earthly creatures to his law;
Against whose force in vain it is to fight.
Nor peers, nor princes, nor no mortal wight,
No towns, nor realms, cities, nor strongest tower,
But all perforce must yield unto his power.

His dart anon out of the corpse he took,
And in his hand a dreadful sight to see,
With great triumph eftsoons the same he shook,
That most of all my fear affrayed me:

His body dight with nought but bones, perdie,
The naked shape of man there saw I plain,
All but the flesh, the sinew and the vein.

Lastly stood War, in glittering arms y-clad;
With visage grim, stern look, and blackly-hued;
In his right hand a naked sword he had,

That to the hilt was all with blood embrued:
And in his left, that kings and kingdoms rued,
Famine and fire he held, and therewithall
He razed towns, and threw down towers and all.

Cities he sacked, and realms that whilome flowered

In honour, glory, and rule above the best, He overwhelmed, and all their fame devoured, Consumed, destroyed, wasted, and never ceased, "Till he their wealth, their name and all oppressed: His face for-hewed with wounds, and by his side

*

There hung his targe with gashes deep and wide.

In midst of which, depainted there we found
Deadly debate, all full of snaky hair,
That with a bloody fillet was y-bound,

Outbreathing nought but discord every where,
And round about were pourtrayed here and there
The hugy host, Darius and his power,

His kings, princes, his peers, and all his flower.

Some of these personifications had also been painted by Chaucer, and doubtless Sackville had seen and profited by the designs of the elder bard.

Elde was y-painted after this,

That shorter was a fote, I wis,

Than she was wont in her younghede : +

Uneth herself she might y-feed :‡

So feeble and so old was she
That faded was all her beauty:
Full sallow was waxen her colour;
Her head for hoar was white as flour:
All waxen was her body unwelde §
And dire and dwindled all for elde:
A foul fotwelked || thing was she,
That whilome round and soft had bee;
Her hair shoken fast withal,

As from her head they woulden fall;
Her face y-frounced and forpined ¶
And both her hands lorn fordwined: **

* Much scared.

Youth. She could scarcely feed herself. Much withered. ¶Wrinkled and much wasted. **Shrunk and rendered useless.

Unwieldy.

**

So old she was, that she ne went
A foot, but it were by potent:
But natheless I trow that she
Was fair sometime and fresh to see,
When she was in her rightful age,
But she was passed all that passage,
And was a doting thing becomen.
A furred cap on had she nomen; †
Well had she clad herself and warm,
For cold might else doen her harm.
And alder last‡ of every one
Was painted Poverty all alone;
That not one penny had in hold,
Although that she her clothes sold,
And though she should an hanged be,
For naked as a worm was she:
And if the weather stormy were,
For cold she should have died there.
She ne had on, but a strait old sack,
And many a clout on it there stack;
This was her coat and her muntel,
No more was there never a dele §
To cloth her with; I undertake
Great lesor || hadde she to quake:
And she was put, that I of talk,
Far from these others, up in a halk ; ¶
There lurked and there coured ** she,
For pover thing whereso it be,

Is shamefaced and despised aye.

One more image which is excellent, and even superior to the Revenge of Sackville:

*A crutch. + Participle passive of nime, to take. Last of all. § Never so little. || Great cause. ¶ A coner. ** Crouched. = Malice. tt A religious order -A Nun ‡‡ A scold. §§ Mad.

G

Y-frounced foul was her visage,
And grinning for dispiteons rage;
Her nose y-snorted up for tenc, +
Full hideous was she for to seen:
Full foul and rusty was she this,
Her head y-writhen was I wis,
Full grimly with a great towel.

If however, Sackville was indebted to Chaucer, he, in his turn has conferred obligations upon several suceeeding Poets. Instances of these will occur to every poetical student; but the limits of the present compi lation forbid their insertion.

A Midnight Scene; from the Legend of Buckingham.

Midnight was come, and every vital thing

With sweet sound sleep their weary limbs did rest,
The beasts were still, the little birds that sing,
Now sweetly slept beside their mother's breast:
The old and young were shrouded in their nest.
The waters calm, the cruel seas did cease,
The woods, the fields, and all things held their peace.

The golden stars were whirled amid their race,
And on the earth did laugh with twinkling light, §
When each thing, nestled in his resting place,
Forgot day's pains with pleasure of the night:
The hare had not the greedy hounds in sight,
The fearful deer of death stood not in do ubt,
The partridge dreamed not of the falcon's foot.

* Wrinkled. + Grief; any violent affection of the mind. Enwrathed.

And firey Phoebus riseth up so briglit,
That all the orient laugheth at the sight.

CHAUCER.