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gant analysis of the ancient ones. Learned enquiries have now traced the origin of romantic fiction to three sources.-The first romances were merely Metrical Histories; but the florid marvellous was soon introduced to enliven the frigid annals. From Scandinavia issued forth the giants, dragons, witches, and enchanters. In the East, Arabian fancy bent her Iris of many-softened hues, over a delightful land of fiction; while the Welsh, in their emigration to Britany, are believed to have brought with them their national fables, That subsequent race of Romancers called Troubadours were so called from Troveurs, or finders, culling and compiling the domestic tales from all these sources, Millot and Sainte Palaye have preserved in their "Histories of the Troubadours," their curious literary compositions. They were a most romantic race of men; military and religious subjects were their themes. They were bold and satirical on Princes, and even on Priests: severe Moralists and Libertines in their verse; yet so refined and chaste in their manners, that few husbands were alarmed at the enthusiastic language they addressed to their wives. The most romantic incidents are told of their loves.

From these productions, in their improved state, poets of all nations have drawn their richest inventions. The agreeable wildness of that fancy, which characterised the eastern nations, was caught by the Crusaders. When they returned home,

they mingled in their own the customs of each country. The Saracens, who were men like themselves, because they were of another religion and were therefore their enemies, were pictured under the tremendous form of Paynim Giants, The credulous reader of that day followed with trembling anxiety the Red-cross Knight, It was thus that fiction embellished religion, and religion invigorated fiction. Such incidents have enlivened the cantos of Ariosto, and adorned the epic of Tasso. Spenser is the child of their creation; and it is certain that we are indebted to them for some of the bold and strong touches of Milton. Our great poet marks his affection for "these lofty Fables and Romances, among which his young feet wandered." Collins was bewildered among their magical seductions; and Dr. Johnson was enthusiastically delighted by the old Spanish folio Romance of "Felixmarte of Hircania," and similar works. The most ancient Romances were originally composed in verse before they were converted into prose: no wonder that the lacerated members of the poet have been cherished by the sympathy of poetical souls. Don Quixote's was a very agreeable insanity.

The most voluminous of these ancient Romances, Duchat tells us, is Le Roman de Perceforest. I have seen an edition in six folio volumes, and its author has been called the French Homer by

the writers of his age. In the class of Romances of chivalry we have several translations in the black-letter. Such are the "Mort D'Arthur; Huon of Bourdeaux, &c." The best translations, now very rare and high-priced, are those of Lord Berners, the admirable translator of Froissart, in the reign of Henry VIII, and not the least of his merits is now the genuine antique cast of his style. Amadis de Gaul has been lately given by Mr. Southey in the ancient style. The Oberon of Wieland has delighted all poetical readers by the wonders and the inventions of Sir Huon. All these Romances require in these times a certain degree of patient indulgence from their prolixity; their triteness and their Platonic amours,but they never have been equalled for the wildness of their inventions, the ingenuity of their incidents, and the simplicity of their stile and manners.

As a specimen of their ingenious inventions I shall select two romantic adventures:

The title of the extensive romance of Perceforest opens thus, "The most elegant, delicious, mellifluous, and delightful history of Perceforest, king of Great-Britain, &c." the most ancient edition is that of 1528. The present adventure is finely narrated, but too long to be inserted here. The writers of these Gothic fables, lest they should be considered as mere triflers, pretended to an allegorical meaning concealed under the texturę

of their fable. From the following adventure we learn the power of beauty in making ten days appear as yesterday! Alexander the Great in search of Perceforest parts with his knights in an enchanted wood, and each vows they will not remain longer than one night in one place. Alexander, accompanied by a page arrives at Sebilla's castle, who is a sorceress. He is taken by her witcheries and beauty, and the page by the lady's maid, falls into the same mistake as his master, who thinks he is there only one night. They enter the castle with deep wounds, and issue perfectly recovered. I transcribe the latter part as a specimen of the manner. When they were once out of the castle, the king said, “Truly, Floridas, I know not how it has been with me; but certainly Sebilla is a very honourable lady, and very beautiful and very charming in conversation. Sire, (said Floridas,) it is true; but one thing surprises me:-how is it that our wounds have healed in one night; I thought at least ten or fifteen days were necessary. Truly (said the king) that is astonishing! Now king Alexander met Gadiffer, king of Scotland, and the valiant knight Le Tors. Well (said the king), have ye news of the king of England? Ten days we have hunted him, and cannot find him out. How, (said Alexander,) did we not separate yesterday from each other? In God's name, (said Gadiffer,) what means your

majesty? It is ten days! Have a care what you say, cried the king. Sire, replied Gadiffer, it is so; ask Le Tors. On my honour (said Le Tors,) the king of Scotland speaks truth. Then (said the king) some of us are enchanted. Floridas, didst thou not think we separated yesterday? Truly, truly, your majesty, I thought so! But when I saw our wounds healed in one night, I had some suspicion that we were enchanted."

In the old romance of Melusina, this lovely fairy, though to the world unknown as such, enamoured of Count Raymond, marries him, but first extorts a solemn promise that he will never disturb her on Saturdays. On those days the inferior parts of her body are metamorphosed to that of a mermaid as a punishment for a former error. Agitated by the malicious insinuations of a friend, his curiosity and his jealousy one day conduct him to the spot she retired to at those times. It was a darkened passage in the dungeon of the fortress. His hand gropes its way till it feels an iron gate oppose it; nor can he discover a single chink, but at length perceives by his touch a loose nail, he places his sword in its head and screws it out. Through this hole he sees Melusina in the horrid form she is compelled to assume. That tender mistress, transformed into a monster bathing in a fount, flashing the spray of the water from a scaly tail! He repents of

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