glories.

I do not propose to analyze the poetry of Chaucer, or enter upon a
critical inquiry as to his relative merits in comparison with the other
great poets. It is sufficient for me to know that critics place him very
high as an original poet, although it is admitted that he drew much of
his material from French and Italian authors. He was, for his day, a
great linguist. He had travelled extensively, and could speak Latin,
French, and Italian with fluency. He knew Petrarch and other eminent
Italians. One is amazed that in such an age he could have written so
well, for he had no great models to help him in his own language. If
occasionally indecent, he is not corrupting. He never deliberately
disseminates moral poison; and when he speaks of love, he treats almost
solely of the simple and genuine emotions of the heart.

The best criticism that I have read of Chaucer's poetry is that of
Adolphus William Ward; although as a biography it is not so full or so
interesting as that of Godwin or even Morley. In no life that I have
read are the mental characteristics of our poet so ably drawn,--"his
practical good sense," his love of books, his still deeper love of
nature, his naivete, the readiness of his description, the brightness of
his imagery, the easy flow of his diction, the vividness with which he
describes character; his inventiveness, his readiness of illustration,
his musical rhythm, his gaiety and cheerfulness, his vivacity and
joyousness, his pathos and tenderness, his keen sense of the ridiculous
and power of satire, without being bitter, so that his wit and fun are
harmless, and perpetually pleasing.

He doubtless had great dramatic talent, but he did not live in a
dramatic age. His especial excellence, never surpassed, was his power of
observing and drawing character, united with boundless humor and
cheerful fun. And his descriptions of nature are as true and unstinted
as his descriptions of men and women, so that he is as fresh as the
month of May. In his poetry is life; and hence his immortal fame. He is
not so great as Spenser or Shakspeare or Milton; but he has the same
vitality as they, and is as wonderful as they considering his age and
opportunities,--a poet who constantly improved as he advanced in life,
and whose greatest work was written in his old age.

Unfortunately, we know but little of Chaucer's habits and experiences,
his trials and disappointments, his friendships or his hatreds. What we
d