favourite city, threatened to revenge himself on God, by
robbing Him of that thing--_i.e._, the soul--He desired most in him;
and whose very last words were an echo of Job's curse upon the day
that he was born. Marie's phrases may be regarded, perhaps, as a
courtly flourish, rather than as conveying truth with mathematical
precision. If not, we should be driven to suggest an alternative to
the favourite simile of lying like an epitaph. But I think it unlikely
that Marie suffered with a morbidly sensitive conscience. There is
little enough real devotion to be met with in her "Lays"; and if
her last book--a translation from the Latin of the Purgatory of St.
Patrick--is on a subject she avoids in her earlier work, it was
written under the influence of some high prelate, and may be regarded
as a sign that she watched the shadows cast by the western sun
lengthening on the grass.

Gaston Paris suggests 1175 as an approximate date for the composition
of the "Lays" of Marie de France. Their success was immediate and
unequivocal, as indeed was to be expected in the case of a lady
situated so fortunately at Court. We have proof of this in the
testimony of Denis Pyramus, the author who wrote a Life of St. Edmund
the King, early in the following century. He says, in that poem, "And
also Dame Marie, who turned into rhyme and made verses of 'Lays' which
are not in the least true. For these she is much praised, and her
rhyme is loved everywhere; for counts, barons, and knights greatly
admire it, and hold it dear. And they love her writing so much, and
take such pleasure in it, that they have it read, and often copied.
These Lays are wont to please ladies, who listen to them with delight,
for they are after their own hearts." It is no wonder that the lords
and ladies of her century were so enthralled by Marie's romances, for
her success was thoroughly well deserved. Even after seven hundred
years her colours remain surprisingly vivid, and if the tapestry is
now a little worn and faded in places, we still follow with interest
the movements of the figures wrought so graciously upon the arras. Of
course her stories are not original; but was any plot original at
any period of the earth's history? This is not only an old, but an
iterative world. The source of Marie's inspiration is perfectly clear,
for she states it emphatically in quite a number of her Lays. This
adventure chanced in Brittany, and in remembrance thereof the Bretons
made a