d which have deservedly made them
immortal.

A further character which has added to their fame, is that, being
perfect lyrics, they are also specimens of an old-fashioned manner and
metre peculiar to the time. They are the resurrection not only of the
Spring, but of a Spring of the fifteenth century. Nor is it too
fantastic to say that one sees in them the last miniatures and the very
dress of a time that was intensely beautiful, and in which Charles of
Orleans alone did not feel death coming.

_THE TWO ROUNDELS OF SPRING._

_Les fourriers d'Este sont venus
Pour appareillier son logis,
Et ont fait tendre ses tappis,
De fleurs et verdure tissus.
En estandant tappis velus
De verte herbe par le pais,
Les fourriers d'Este sont venus
Pour appareillier son logis.
Cueurs d'ennuy pieca morfondus,
Dieu merci, sont sains et jolis;
Alez vous en, prenez pais,
Yver vous ne demourrez plus;
Les fourriers d'Este sont venus._

_Le temps a laissie son manteau
De vent, de froidure et de pluye,
Et s'est vestu de brouderie,
De soleil luyant, cler et beau.
Il n'y a beste, ne oyseau,
Qu'en son jargon ne chant ou crie;
Le temps a laissie son manteau
De vent de froidure et de pluye.
Riviere, fontaine et ruisseau
Portent, en livree jolie,
Gouttes d'argent d'orfavrerie,
Chascun s'abille de nouveau.
Le temps a laissie son manteau._

HIS LOVE AT MORNING.
(_The 6th of the "Songs"._)

In this delightful little song the spontaneity and freshness which saved
his work, its vigour and its clarity are best preserved.

It does indeed defy death and leaps four centuries: it is young and
perpetual. It thrills with something the failing middle ages had
forgotten: it reaches what they never reached, a climax, for one cannot
put too vividly the flash of the penultimate line, "I am granted a
vision when I think of her."

Yet it was written in later life, and who she was, or whether she lived
at all, no one knows.

_HIS LOVE AT MORNING._

_Dieu qu'il la fait bon regarder
La gracieuse bonne et belle!
Pour les grans biens qui sont en elle,
Chascun est prest de la louer
Qui se pourroit d'elle lasser!
Tousjours sa beaulte renouvelle.
Dieu, qu'il la fait bon regarder,
La gracieuse, bonn