articular jewels set in
the copper and the gold, but the jewels are very numerous: indeed it was
almost impossible to choose so few as I have printed here.

If it be asked why this should have become the most famous, no answer
can be given save the "flavour of language." It is the perfection of his
tongue. Its rhythm reaches the exact limit of change which a simple
metre will tolerate: where it saddens, a lengthy hesitation at the
opening of the seventh line introduces a new cadence, a lengthy
lingering upon the last syllables of the tenth, eleventh and twelfth
closes a grave complaint. So, also by an effect of quantities, the last
six lines rise out of melancholy into their proper character of appeal
and vivacity: an exhortation.

Certainly those who are so unfamiliar with French poetry as not to know
that its whole power depends upon an extreme subtlety of rhythm, may
find here the principal example of the quality they have missed.
Something much less weighty than the stress of English lines, a just
perceptible difference between nearly equal syllables, marks the
excellent from the intolerable in French prosody: and to feel this truth
in the eighteen lines that follow it is necessary to read them virtually
in the modern manner--for the "s" in "vespree" or "vostre" were
pedantries in the sixteenth century--but one must give the mute "e's"
throughout as full a value as they have in singing. Indeed, reading this
poem, one sees how it must have been composed to some good and simple
air in the man's head.

If the limits of a page permitted it, I would also show how worthy the
thing was of fame from its pure and careful choice of verb--"Tandis que
vostre age _fleuronne_"--but space prevents me, luckily, for all this is
like splitting a diamond.

"_MIGNONNE ALLONS VOIR SI LA ROSE._"

_Mignonne, allons voir si la rose
Qui ce matin avoit desclose
Sa robe de pourpre au soleil
A point perdu ceste vespree
Les plis de sa robe pourpree
Et son teint au vostre pareil_

_Las! Voyez comme en peu d'espace
Mignonne, elle a dessus la place,
Las! Las! ses beautez laisse cheoir!
O vrayment marastre nature,
Puis qu'une telle fleur ne dure
Que du matin jusques au soir!_

_Donc si vous me croyez, Mignonne,
Tandis que vostre age fleuronne
En sa plus verte nouveaute,
Cuillez, Cuillez vostre jeunesse:
Comme a ceste fleur, la veillesse
Fer