to be understood, then as his language grows obsolete, his thoughts must grow obfcure :

" Multa renascentur quæ jam cecidere; cadentque, "Quæ nunc funt in honore vocabula; fi volet ufus, "Quem penès arbitrium est, & jus, & norma loquendi." When an ancient word for its found and significancy deserves to be revived, I have that reasonable veneration for antiquity, to restore it. All beyond this is superstition. Words are not like landmarks, so sacred as never to be removed; customs are changed; and even statutes are filently repealed, when the reason ceases for which they were enacted. As for the other part of the argument, that his thoughts will lose of their original beauty, by the innovation of words; in the first place, not only their beauty, but their being is lost, where they are no longer understood, which is the present cafe. I grant that fomething must be loft in all transfufion, that is, in all tranflations; but the sense will remain, which would otherwise be loft, or at least be maimed, when it is scarce intelligible; and that but to a few. How few are there who can read Chaucer, so as to understand him perfectly! And if imperfectly, then with less profit and no pleasure. It is not for the use of some old Saxon friends, that I have taken these pains with him: let them neglect my verfion, because they have no need of it. I made it for their fakes who understand sense and poetry as well as they, when that poetry and sense is put into words which they understand. I will go farther, and dare to add, that what beauties I lose in some places, I give to others which had them not originally: but in this I

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may be partial to myself; let the reader judge, and I fubmit to his decifion. Yet I think I have just occafion to complain of them, who, because they understand Chaucer, would deprive the greater part of their countrymen of the fame advantage, and hoard him up, as mifers do their grandam gold, only to look on it themselves, and hinder others from making use of it. In fum, I ferioufly protest, that no man ever had, or can have, a greater veneration for Chaucer, than myself. I have translated some part of his works, only that I might perpetuate his memory, or at least refresh it, amongst my countrymen. If I have altered him any where for the better, I must at the fame time acknowledge, that I could have done nothing without him:

Facile est inventis addere," is no great commendation; and I am not so vain to think I have deserved a greater. I will conclude what I have to say of him fingly, with this one remark: a lady of my acquaintance, who keeps a kind of correfpondence with fome authors of the fair sex in France, has been informed by them, that Mademoiselle de Scudery, who is as old as Sibyl, and inspired like her by the fame god of poetry, is at this time tranflating Chaucer into modern French. From which I gather, that he has been formerly tranflated into the old Provençal (for how she should come to understand old English I know not). But the matter of fact being true, it makes me think that there is something in it like fatality; that, after certain periods of time, the fanie and memory of great wits should be renewed, as Chaucer is both in France and England. If

this be wholly chance, it is extraordinary, and I dare not call it more, for fear of being taxed with fuperftition.

Boccace comes last to be confidered, who, living in the fame age with Chaucer, had the same genius, and followed the fame studies: both writ novels, and each of them cultivated his mother tongue. But the greatest resemblance of our two modern authors being in their familiar stile, and pleasing way of relating comical adventures, I may pass it over, because I have translated nothing from Boccace of that nature. In the ferious part of poetry, the advantage is wholly on Chaucer's fide; for though the Englishman has borrowed many tales from the Italian, yet it appears that those of Boccace were not generally of his own making, but taken from authors of former ages, and by him only modelled: fo that what there was of invention in either of them, may be judged equal. But Chaucer has refined on Boccace, and has mended the stories which he has borrowed, in his way of telling; though profe allows more liberty of thought, and the expreffion is more easy when unconfined by numbers. Our countryman carries weight, and yet wins the race at difadvantage. I defire not the reader should take my word: and therefore I will fet two of their discourses on the same subject, in the fame light, for every man to judge betwixt them. I tranflated Chaucer first, and, amongst the rest, pitched on the Wife of Bath's tale'; not daring, as I have faid, to adventure on her prologue, because it is too licentious: there Chaucer introduces an old woman of mean parentage, whom a youthful knight of noble blood was forced

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forced to inarry, and confequently loathed her: the crone being in bed with him on the wedding-night, and finding his averfion, endeavours to win his affection by reafon, and speaks a good word for herself, (as who could blame her?) in hope to mollify the fullen bridegroom. She takes her topics from the benefits of poverty, the advantages of old age and ugliness, the vanity of youth, and the filly pride of ancestry and titles without inherent virtue, which is the true nobility. When I had clofed Chaucer, I returned to Ovid, and translated fome more of his fables; and by this time had fo far forgotten the wife of Bath's tale, that, when I took up Boccace, unawares I fell on the same argument of preferring virtue to nobility of blood, and titles, in the story of Sigifmunda; which I had certainly avoided for the refemblance of the two difcourses, if my memory had not failed me. Let the reader weigh them both; and if he thinks me partial to Chaucer, it is in him to right Boccace.

I prefer in our countryman, far above all his other ftories, the noble poem of Palamon and Arcite, which is of the Epic kind, and perhaps not much inferior to the Ilias or the Æneis: the story is more pleasing, than either of them, the manners as perfect, the diction as poetical, the learning as deep and various; and the difpofition full as artful; only it includes a greater length of time, as taking up feven years at leafd; but Aristotle has left undecided the duration of the action; which yet is easily reduced into the compass of a year, by a narration of what preceded the re

turn of Palamon to Athens. I had thought for the honour of our nation, and more particularly for his, whose laurel, though unworthy, I have worn after him, that this story was of English growth, and Chaucer's own: but I was undeceived by Boccace; for cafually looking on the end of his seventh Giornata, I found Dioneo (under which name he shadows himself) and Fiametta (who represents his mistress the natural daughter of Robert king of Naples) of whom these words are spoken, "Dioneo e la Fiametta granpezza conta"rono insieme d' Arcita, e di Palamone:" by which it appears that this story was written before the time of Boccace; but the name of its author being wholly loft, Chaucer is now become an original; and I question not but the poem has received many beauties by paffing through his noble hands. Besides this tale, there is another of his own invention, after the manner of the Provençals, called The Flower and the Leaf; with which I was so particularly pleased, both for the invention and the moral, that I cannot hinder myself from recommending it to the reader.

As a corollary to this preface, in which I have done justice to others, I owe somewhat to myself: not that I think it worth my time to enter the lifts with one Milbourn, and one Blackmore, but barely to take notice, that fuch men there are who have written scurriloufly against me, without any provocation. Milbourn, who is in Orders, pretends amongst the rest this quarrel to me, that I have fallen foul on priesthood: if I have, I am only to ask pardon of good priests, and am afraid his