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memory embalmed in the recollection of his fellow-countrymen. After having fought in his youth under Joan of Arc, in rescuing the territory of France from the grasp of her invaders, and subsequently in the wars of Scander Beg and Ferdinand of Arragon, he spent the latter part of his eventful life in diffusing happiness among his subjects, and making his court the centre of refined and classic enjoyment. Aix in Provence was then the seat of civilisation, and the haunt of the Muses. While to René is ascribed the introduction and culture of the mulberry, and the consequent development of the silk-trade along the Rhone, to his fostering care the poetry of France is indebted for many of her best and simplest productions, the rondeau, the madrigal, the triolet, the lay, the virelai, and other measures equally melodious. His own ditties (chiefly church hymns) are preserved in the Bibliothèque du Roi, in his own handwriting, adorned by his royal pencil with sundry curious enluminations and allegorical emblems.

A rival settlement for the "sacred sisters" was established at the neighbouring court of Avignon, where the temporary residence of the popes attracted the learning of Italy and of the ecclesiastical world. The combined talents of churchmen and of poets shone with concentrated effulgence in that most picturesque and romantic of cities, fit cradle for the muse of Petrarca, and the appropriate resort of every contemporary excellence. The pontific presence shed a lustre over this crowd of meritorious men, and excited a spirit of emulation in all the walks of science, unknown in any other European capital: and to Avignon in those days might be applied the observation of a Latin poet concerning that small town of Italy which the residence of a single important personage sufficed to illustrate:

"Veios habitante Camillo, Illic Roma fuit."

LUCAN.

The immortal sonnets of Laura's lover, written in the polished and elegant idiom of Lombardy, had a perceptible effect in softening what was harsh, and refining what was uncouth, in the love songs of the Troubadors, whose language (not altogether obsolete in Provence at the present time) bears a

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close affinity to the Italian. But this " light of song, ever gratifying to the lover of early literature, was but a sort of crepuscular brightening, to herald in that full dawn of true taste and knowledge which broke forth at the appearance of Francis I. and Leo X. Then it was that Europe's modern minstrels, forming their lyric effusions on the imperishable models of classical antiquity, produced, for the bower and the banquet, for the court and the camp, strains of unparalleled sweetness and power. I have already enriched my papers with a specimen of the love-ditties which the amour of Francis and the unfortunate Comtesse de Chateaubriand gave birth to. The royal lover has himself recorded his chivalrous attachment to that lady in a song which is preserved among the MSS. of the Duke of Buckingham, in the Bibliothèque du Roi. It begins thus:

"Ores que je la tiens sous ma loy,

Plus je regne amant que roy,
Adieu, visages de cour," &c. &c.

Of the songs of Henri Quatre, addressed to Gabrielle d'Etrées, and of the ballads of Mary Stuart, it were almost superfluous to say a word; but in a professed essay on so interesting a subject, it would be an unpardonable omission not to mention two such illustrious contributors to the minstrelsy of France.

From crowned heads the transition to Maître Adam (the poetic carpenter) is rather abrupt; but he deserves most honourable rank among the tuneful brotherhood. Without quitting his humble profession of a joiner, he published a volume of songs (Rheims, 1650) under the modest title of "Dry Chips and Oak Shavings from the Workshop of Adam Billaud." Many of his staves are right well put out of hand. But he had been preceded by Clement Marôt, a most cultivated poet, who had given the tone to French versification. Malherbe was also a capital lyric writer in the grandiose style, and at times pathetic. Then there was Ronsard and Panard. Jean de Meun, who, with Guillaume de Lorris, concocted the "Roman de la Rose:" Villon, Charles d'Orléans, Gringoire, Alain Chartier, Bertaut, and sundry others of the old school, deservedly challenge the antiquary and critic's commendation. The subsequent glories of Voiture,

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Scuderi, Dorat, Boufflers, Florian, Racan, and Chalieu, would claim their due share of notice, if the modern lyrics of Lamartine, Victor Hugo, André Chenier, Chateaubriand, and Delavigne, like the rod of the prophet; had not swallowed up the inferior spells of the magicians who preceded them. But I cannot for a moment longer repress my enthusiastic admiration of one who has arisen in our days, to strike in France, with a master-hand, the lyre of the troubadour, and to fling into the shade all the triumphs of bygone minstrelsy. Need I designate Béranger, who has created for himself a style of transcendent vigour and originality, and who has sung of war, love, and wine, in strains far excelling those of Blondel, Tyrtæus, Pindar, or the Teïan bard. He is now the genuine representative of Gallic poesy in her convivial, her amatory, her warlike, and her philosophic mood: and the plenitude of the inspiration that dwelt successively in the souls of all the songsters of ancient France seems to have transmigrated into Béranger, and found a fit recipient in his capacious and liberal mind:

"As some bright river, that, from fall to fall

In many a maze descending, bright in all,

Finds some fair region, where, each labyrinth past,

In one full lake of light it rests at last."-Lalla Rookh.

Let me open the small volume of his chansons, and take at venture the first that offers. Good! it is about the grape. Wine is the grand topic with all poets (after the ladies); hear then his account of the introduction of the grape into Burgundy and Champagne, effected through the instrumentality of Brennus.

Brennus,

Ou la Vigne plantée dans les
Gaules.

Brennus disait aux bons Gaulois,
"Célébrez un triomphe insigne !
Les champs de Rome ont payé mes
exploits,

Et j'en rapporte un cep de vigne;
Privés de son jus tout-puissant,

The Song of Brennus,

Or the Introduction of the Grape
into France.
TUNE-"The Night before Larry."
When Brennus came back here from
Rome,

These words he is said to have
spoken:

"We have conquered, my boys! and brought home

A sprig of the vine for a token!

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