THE GENTLE ARMOUR.

THE main circumstance of this story—a knight fighting against three, with no other coat of mail than the delicatest garment of his mistress— is taken from one of the Fabliaux that were versified by the late Mr. Way. The lady's appearance in the garment, after the battle, is from the same poem. The turn given to these incidents, the colouring, and the sentiment, are the work of the present writer. The original is a curious specimen of the license of old times. A married woman, who has a goodhumoured craven for her husband, is made love to by three knights; to each of whom, as a trial of his affection, and by way of proving the tenderness of her deserts, she proposes that he shall mix in the fight of a tournament, with no other covering to his body than the one just mentioned. Two of them decline the experiment; the third accepts it, is victorious, and, in order to be on a par with her in delicacy of sentiment, requests that she will make her appearance at her husband's table in the triumphant investment. She does so; the guests are struck with admiration;

"While the good spouse (not bold, 'twas lately sung)
Cast down his honest eyes, and held his tongue.

"Speak, guileless damsels! Dames, in love well read!
Speak, Sirs! in chivalry and honour bred;

Who best deserves-the lady or the knight?

He, death who braved, or she, censorious spite?"

Allowance is to be made for the opinions of a different age; and we see, even here, right and wrong principles struggling in the perplexities of custom. But the cultivation of brute force is uppermost; and nothing can reconcile us to the disposition of the woman who could speculate upon such a tribute to her vanity. It is hoped that the heroine of the following version of the story, without being wanting in self-love, is a little better, and not unsuited to any age.

THE GENTLE ARMOUR.

CANTO I.

ARMS and a vest I sing, which meant in blame,

His glorious hauberk to a knight became,

And in the field such dire belabouring bore,

As gentle linen never stood before;

A song

of love, and worthy generous ears,

With smiles begun and clos'd, and manhood in the

tears.

There liv'd a knight, when knighthood was in flow'r,

Who charm'd alike the tilt-yard and the bow'r;

Young, handsome, blithe, loyal and brave of course,
He stuck as firmly to his friend as horse
And only show'd, for so complete a youth,

Somewhat too perfect a regard for truth.
He own'd 'twas inconvenient; sometimes felt
A wish 'twere buckled in another's belt;
Doubted its modesty, its use, its right,

Yet after all remain'd the same true knight:
So potent is a custom, early taught ;

And to such straits may honest men be brought.

'Tis true, to be believ'd was held a claim

Of gentle blood, and not to be, a shame :—
A liar, notorious as the noon-day sun,

Was bound to fight you, if you call'd him one:
But yet to be so nice, and stand, profess'd,

All truth, was held a pedantry at best;

Invidious by the men; and by the fair

A thing at once to doat on and beware.
What bliss to meet his flatteries, eye to eye!
But could he not, then, tell one little lie?