In cream of morning Helicon, and then
Prefer soft anthems to the ears of men,

To woo them from their beds, still murmuring
That men can sleep while they their mattens sing:
(Most divine service) whose, so early lay
Prevents the eye-lids of the blushing day.
There might you hear her kindle her soft voice,
In the close murmur of a sparkling noise ;
And lay the ground-work of her hopeful song,
Still keeping in the forward stream, so long
Till a sweet whirlwind (striving to get out)
Heaves her soft bosome, wanders round about,
And makes a pretty earthquake in her brest,
Till the fledg'd notes at length forsake their nest;
Fluttering in wanton shoals, and to the sky
Wing'd with their own wild echo's pratling fly.
She opes the floodgate, and lets loose a tide
Of streaming sweetness, which in state doth ride
On the wav'd back of every swelling strain,
Rising and falling in a pompous train,
And while she thus discharges a shrill peal
Of flashing airs, she qualifies their zeal
With the cool epode of a graver note;
Thus high, thus low, as if her silver throat

Would reach the brazen voice of war's hoarse bird;
Her little soul is ravisht and so pour'd
Into loose extasies, that she is plac't
Above herself, musick's enthusiast.

Shame now and anger mixt a double stain
In the musician's face; yet, once again,
Mistress, I come: now reach a strain, my lute,
Above her mock, or be for ever mute.

Or tune a song of victory to me,

Or to thyself sing thine own obsequie;

So said, his hands sprightly as fire he flings,
And with a quavering coyness tastes the strings:
The sweet-lip'd sisters musically frighted,
Singing their fears, are fearfully delighted:
Trembling as when Apollo's golden hairs
Are fan'd and frizled in the wanton airs

Of his own breath, which, married to his lyre,

Doth tune the sphears, and make heaven's self look higher;

From this to that, from that to this he flies,

Feels musick's pulse in all her arteries;

Caught in a net which there Apollo spreads,
His fingers struggle with the vocal threads,
Following those little rills, he sinks into
A sea of Helicon; his hand does go

Those parts of sweetness which with nectar drop,
Softer than that which pants in Hebe's cup:
The humourous strings expound his learned touch
By various glosses; now they seem to grutch,
And murmure in a buzzing dinne, then gingle
In shrill tongued accents, striving to be single;
Every smooth turn, every delicious stroke
Gives life to some new grace; thus doth h' invoke
Sweetness by all her names: thus, bravely thus
(Fraught with a fury so harmonious)

The lute's light genius now does proudly rise,
Heav'd on the surges of swoln rapsodies;
Whose flourish (meteor like) doth curle the air
With flash of high-born fancies, here and there
Dancing in lofty measures, and anon
Creeps on the soft touch of a tender tone,
Whose trembling murmurs melting in wilde airs
Run to and fro, complaining his sweet cares;
Because those precious mysteries that dwell
In musick's ravish't soul he dare not tell,
But whisper to the world: thus do they vary,
Each string his note, as if they meant to carry
Their master's blest soul, (snatcht out at his ears
By a strong extasy) through all the sphears
Of musick's heaven; and seat it there on high
In th' empyræum of pure harmony.

At length (after so long, so loud a strife
Of all the strings, still breathing the best life
Of blest variety, attending on

His fingers' fairest revolution,

In many a sweet rise, many as sweet a fall)
A full-mouth'd diapason swallows all.

This done, he lists what she would say to this,
And she, although her breath's late exercise
Had dealt too roughly with her tender throat,
Yet summons all her sweet powers for a note;
Alas! in vain! for while (sweet soul) she tries
To measure all those wild diversities
Of chatt'ring strings, by the small size of one
Poor simple voice, rais'd in a natural tone;

She fails, and falling grieves, and grieving dies;
She dies, and leaves her life the victor's prize,
Falling upon his lute; O fit to have

(That liv'd so sweetly) dead, so sweet a grave!"

ART. V. The Voyage of the Wandering Knight, shewing the whole course of a Man's Life, how apt he is to follow Vanitie, and how hard it is for him to attaine to Virtue; devised by John Carthemy, a Frenchman, and translated out of French into English, by W. G. [Goodyeare] of Southampton, merchant: a worke worthy of reading, and dedicated to the R. W. Sir Francis Drake; black letter, quarto. Lond. pr: by W. Stansby, n. d.

The only notice which we find of this curious and very rare work, is a very slight one in Dunlop's History of Fiction. He there says, speaking of the origin of Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress, "that by some it has been attributed to Barnard's Religious Allegory, while others have traced it to the Story of the Wandering Knight, translated from the French by Will. Goodyeare, in the reign of Queen Elizabeth;" but of the original work, we find not the slightest mention, except in an enumeration of Romans de spiritualité et de morale, in the Bibliothèque of Gordon de Percel, where he quotes the title, Le Voyage du Chevalier Errant, par Jean de Carthemi, Dominicain, in 8; and dryly adds, "C'est un roman où l'on fait entrer jusqu'aux sept pseaumes de la penitence."* There were two, if not more, editions of the translation about the end of the sixteenth century, and another in the seventeenth, not many years before the appearance of Bunyan's deservedly popular work, and this strengthens the conjecture, that he might have been possessed of a copy, and that to the meditations, arising from the perusal of it during his imprisonment, we are indebted for the Pilgrim's Progress. It is by no means the wish of the writer to detract from the merit, or claims of Bunyan's work to originality, but merely to shew how far the original work, brooding over a warm and somewhat fervid imagination, may have furnished some of the materials, if not the basis, of Bunyan's admirable superstructure. We have had many successful instances of late of this having been done, without either lessening the merit or the popularity of the work

* Percel Bibliothèque des Romans, p. 172.

-so examined; such, for instance, as Dunster's Milton and Ferriar's Sterne, as well as many others; and we must acknowledge that we are much indebted to these curious and interesting researches, for their having pointed out to our notice many valuable works, which, but for these fortunate circumstances, would probably have fallen into total oblivion; or would only have been known to the curious book collector. Upon a careful collation of the two early editions, we have discovered no variations, except a trifling change in the initials subscribed to the dedication, which in the first edition are R: N: probably Rob. Norman, the author of many valuable hydrographical works about that period, [see Beloe's Anecdotes of Literature, vol. vi.] but in the second edition these are reversed; but this is of too trifling an interest to merit farther investigation, We shall now, therefore, proceed to give an analysis of the work, and such occasional extracts as may enable the reader to judge for himself of the main question, upon which it is entitled to his notice; as also of the nature, aim, and merit of the original work; and which, if it has no other claim to our admiration, must certainly be allowed to exhibit a very curious picture of the manners, customs, and religious opinions, of the times in which it was

written.

The Contents of the first part of The Voyage of the Wandering Knight.

Chap. I. The Wandering Knight declareth his intent and foolish enterprise, wishing and supposing in this world to find true felicitie. Chap. II. The Wandering Knight declareth unto Dame Folly, his governess, what is his intent.

Chap. III. Folly and Evill-will provide the Knight apparel, armour, and horse; Folly apparelleth and armeth the Wandering Knight. Chap. IV. Folly, upon the way, sheweth the Knight many of her ancient proceedings, and how many great and notable personages she had governed.

Chap. V. The Wandering Knight finding too ways, and doubtful whether of them to take, there chanced to come to him Virtue and Voluptuousness, eyther of them offering to guide and conduct the Knight on the way.

Chap. VI. The Wandering Knight, by the counsaile of Folly, left Ladie Virtue and followeth Voluptuousness, which led him to the palace of Worldly Felicitie.

Chap. VII. How the Wandering Knight was received and welcomed to the palace of Worldly Felicitie.

Chap. VIII. Voluptuousness sheweth the Wandering Knight some part of the palace of Worldly Felicitie, and after brought him some dinner.

Chap. IX. Dinner being done, Voluptuousness sheweth the Wandering Knight the rest of the palace of Worldly Felicitie, with the su

perscription of the towers thereof, and by the author is declared the evill fruit of certaine notorious sinnes.

Chap. X. The situation or standing of the palace of Worldly Felicitie.

Chap. XI. The author declareth how the Wandering Knight and such like voluptuous livers in the world transgresse the commandment of Almighty God.

Chap. XII. The Knight going for to recreate himself, and to view the warrens and forrests which were about the palace of Worldly Felicitie, anone he sawe it sink sodainly into the earth, and perceived himself in the myre up to the saddle skirts.

Chap. XIII. The author crieth out bitterly against worldlings and their felicities.

The Second Part of The Voyage of the Wandering Knight.

Chap. I. God's-Grace draweth the Knight out of the filth of sinne where he had stuck fast.

Chap. II. God's-Grace sheweth hell unto the Knight, with all the voluptuous company he saw in the palace of Worldly Felicitie. Chap. III. The Knight declareth how he entered the school of repentance, and of his entertainment there.

Chap. IV. How true repentance begins in us, and how the Knight's conscience accused him with the paines he had deserved.

Chap. V. By commandment of God's-Grace, Remembrance read to him the goodness of God, with the promises made to repentant

sinners.

Chap. VI. A sermon which Understanding, the good hermit, made unto the Knight upon the History of Mary Magdalene.

Chap. VII. The Knight having received the holy communion, heard the sermon, and dinner ended, mounted into a chariot of triumph, and was by God's-Grace carried to the palace of Vertue.

The Third Part of The Voyage of the Wandering Knight. Chap. I. The Knight declareth the great good, solace, and pleasure, which he found in the palace of Ladie Vertue.

Chap. II. Description of Vertue.

Chap. III. Description of Faith, and how we ought to believe in God for our salvation.

Chap. IV. The description of Hope, and how we ought to hope in Almighty God.

Chap. V. The description of Love and Charitie, and how we ought to love God and our neighbour.

Chap. VI. The effects and prayers of Love and Charity.

Chap. VII. The description of the foure morall vertues, Prudence, Justice, Fortitude, and Temperance.

Chap. VIII. How Faith, from the top of the tower, sheweth unto the Knight the citie of Heaven.

Chap. IX. The desire the Knight had to come to Heaven, and how God's-grace brought Perseverance.